


Let Me Be

by BloodRedLust



Category: Glee, klaine - Fandom
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 12:19:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 66,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodRedLust/pseuds/BloodRedLust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brutally violent attack leaves Blaine broken and terrified, and there's only one person in the world who he can trust to help him get through this... that is, if he doesn't manage to push that person away with his anguish, rage and fear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Friday night dinners had been a family tradition in the Hummel household for as long as I could remember. My mom had started them, and my dad had continued with them after she died as a way to keep some familiarity in my life. Now that Carole and Finn were a part of our family, they were something that we continued with as a way to bring the whole family together once a week for some quality time.

My dad and Carole had been married less than a year, but we'd long since adjusted to living together, and had fallen into a comfortable routine in our family life. Our Friday night dinners were all very much the same. Finn and my dad would take up their usual positions in the den, occasionally shouting at the television as they watched football, while Carole and I worked in the kitchen to prepare what were rapidly becoming more exotic meals for the family. We both loved to cook and we worked well together, and I have to admit, I simply loved spending a little time with my new "Smom", as I had affectionately nicknamed her. She was warm and caring and so kind hearted, and I just adored her. As far as I was concerned, my dad couldn't have found a more perfect woman to share his life with.

My story begins one Friday night in early August. Ohio had been suffering for the past week with an uncharacteristic heatwave, but Carole and I hadn't let the temperature in the kitchen deter us from creating our masterpiece.

We'd only just sat down at the dinner table to eat when the doorbell rang. I groaned, staring down at my plate. Visitors at dinnertime really irked me. I hadn't cut my shopping date short with Blaine to spend three hours  _sweating_  in the kitchen just so that I would have to eat my dinner cold. Finn grinned at my irritation and bounced to his feet to get the door. I grumbled to myself, then cut a small portion of my Dukkah encrusted pesto chicken and placed it in my mouth. I didn't care that it was rude; it was ruder for someone to interrupt our meal.

But when Finn screamed my name from the entrance hall, I dropped my cutlery to my plate in a heartbeat and raced my Dad and Carole to the door. I'd never heard him so panicked, such alarm and concern in his voice, and as I rounded the corner I could see why. I stopped dead in my tracks, momentarily too shocked to move until I felt my Dad push past me as he ran to the door.

It actually took me a moment to realise it was Blaine; he was so covered in blood he was almost unrecognisable. He was almost doubled over as he clutched his arm to his chest, and when he looked up at me I could clearly see that his nose was broken, one eye was completely swollen shut, and a large gash had split his lip almost down to his chin, which I assumed was the source of all the blood. I heard Carole cry out in surprise when she saw him, and I'm pretty sure I heard her say the word 'ambulance' as she ran back out of the room.

"Blaine? Oh my Goh..." I choked on my words as I ran to his side, wanting desperately to comfort him, but I wasn't sure where it would be safe to touch him without hurting him further. He didn't seem to care, though; his good arm came up and around my body, holding me close as if I were a lifeline. I heard him draw a jagged breath, and then he doubled over again, coughing up blood but refusing to relax his hold on me.

"Jesus Blaine, what happened?" growled my father as he tried to guide Blaine to the nearest chair. "Who did this to you?"

Blaine sank into the chair with an audible grimace of pain and leaned back, closing his eyes. It was then that I saw the blood seeping through his shirt. I knelt at his side and lifted the material away to reveal the source of the blood, and my head swam in shock when I saw the two inch-long stab wounds in his belly.

I'm sure I was actually in shock by then, but somehow I still remember every single detail of what happened that night. Every single, painful detail as if it were happening in slow motion.

Carole came back into the room clutching the phone and announced that the ambulance was on its way. She handed me a bunch of hand- towels and face washers, and I immediately pressed one to Blaine's stomach to try to slow the bleeding. I could hear my dad talking to Blaine, asking him questions, but Blaine wasn't answering. I thought he had passed out, but when Carole pressed a cold cloth to his face he hissed in pain and tried to pull away. It didn't feel real. I couldn't be sure at that point if this was all even actually happening. I mean, why would it be happening? There was no need for any of this.

I couldn't understand how this  _could_  have happened. I'd been with him only a few hours ago. We'd spent the day together at the mall, mostly just to take advantage of the air conditioning, and simply enjoying being able to spend a day together now that Blaine finally had a few days of from working at Six Flags, and when he walked me to my car just before three o'clock, he was fine. He'd kissed me goodbye, pressing me up against the side of my car in such a delicious public display of affection that he'd made me breathless. He then caressed my cheek, told me he'd call me tonight, and waved as I drove away. So what the hell had happened between then and now to cause  _this_? I felt physically sick.

It wasn't until I felt my dad's gentle finger touch my cheek that I realised I was crying. Well, more sobbing, really. He looked so concerned, so  _scared_...

"It'll be okay, Kurt. Blaine will be alright, okay? The ambulance will be here soon. He'll be fine." My dad was panicked, and to be honest, I wasn't sure who he was trying to convince with his words... me, or himself. I knew in that instant that his thoughts about the cause of this were the same as mine. This was what my dad feared every single day would happen to me, just because of who I was.

"Blaine, can you hear me?" My voice was thick, heavy with tears. I got no response. "Blaine," I said with more urgency, gripping his good arm and shaking him a little. He groaned. "Please Blaine, stay with me, okay. The ambulance is coming. You're going to be fine. I won't leave your side, I promise... just stay with me." He groaned again and leaned in closer to me, pressing his blood stained cheek against my shoulder... and then he passed out cold.

Finn ran outside when we heard the sirens approaching to guide the medics into the room, but he disappeared again.

My dad quickly ran through what we thought must have happened to the paramedics and pointed out Blaine's obvious injuries to them. They carefully fitted him with a spinal collar and moved him to the gurney on the floor. I was distracted by Finn's reappearance in the doorway. He held Blaine's car keys in his hand, his face shocked and amazed as he dangled them in the air in front of him for us to see. He looked from my dad and me to his Mom and back again, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Blaine's car is in our driveway. It's got the word 'fag' scratched into the paint work and there's blood all over the seats. The hood is dented and the windows are smashed. He must have driven himself here..." he pointed to my boyfriend on the floor with the paramedics hovering over him, "after they did  _this_ to him _._ "

I shook my head in disbelief. Blaine couldn't even walk. I couldn't imagine for a moment how he had found the strength, or the focus, to drive. I watched closely as the two men worked over Blaine. They mumbled numbers to each other as they monitored his vital signs, fitting him with an oxygen mask and slipping a thin needle in under his skin to give him a shot of something. This was all so surreal. I shook my head to clear it, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the horrible scene before me.

"His parents," my dad said suddenly, searching the room quickly for where Carole had laid the phone. "I've gotta call his parents and let them know..."

"No Dad," I said quickly... and too loudly. My dad stopped and turned to look at me suspiciously. Damn it. I had wanted to avoid this conversation. Blaine had specifically asked me not to tell anyone, not even my dad, but I couldn't keep it from him now. He would have to know. "You can't. They..." I shot a desperate look at Blaine's unconscious form, hoping that he would forgive me for betraying his confidence. "They disowned him, Dad. He's boarding at Dalton now, permanently, because they kicked him out of home when he..." I sighed heavily, and looked back up to meet my dad's eyes. "When he told them about his relationship with me."

My dad gasped in shocked anger and stared at Blaine, pity filling his eyes. Dad knew that Blaine's father hadn't exactly been accepting of him being gay, but we had never told him just how bad things had been for Blaine at home since he had officially 'come out'. When he took me home to meet his parents only a few days after our first kiss, he was hoping that they would finally see how happy he was and accept him for who he was, but they both shut him out of their lives completely.

"They said they would pay for his tuition and board at Dalton because it was their duty as parents to see that he was properly educated, but as far as they were concerned, he was an embarrassment to his family and they no longer wanted to call him their son. They've even forbidden him from having contact with his brother and little sisters because he might be a bad influence on them. They won't care about this, Dad. They'll probably think he just got what he deserved."

My dad just stared at me and started to slowly shake his head in disbelief. "He's still only a kid." His voice was a shaky whisper. "Who is his legal guardian, then?"

I gave him a tight smile. "He is. He's now legally emancipated."

The elder of the two paramedics turned to face me as the younger guy continued to secure Blaine to the gurney. "This complicates things. The hospital will need someone to sign as an acting guardian..." My dad nodded immediately indicating that he would do it, but the medic held up his hand for pause as he continued, "...to give permission for this young man to have surgery as he's in no condition to make a decision for himself right now. But I have to warn you. If anyone decides to protest your guardianship, there could be legal ramifications."

My dad just nodded. "I don't care, I'll do it. Just do whatever you can to help him, alright?"

The medic nodded and turned back to Blaine, and the two medics lifted the gurney together up onto its legs, and quickly wheeled him out to the waiting ambulance. I ran alongside them, and after they had loaded him in, I climbed in beside them. I didn't even realise my dad had followed us out until I felt his hand touch my knee. I glanced down at him, trying my best to hold back the tears pooling in my eyes.

"We'll follow in the car, okay? We won't be far behind."

I nodded gratefully and patted his hand gently. "Thank you, Dad."

The younger medic closed the back doors, and moments later, climbed into the cab and started the engine. The lights and sirens horribly disturbed the quiet night around us as we sped down the street. I couldn't take my eyes off the beaten, bloody body beside me on the stretcher. I would never understand how someone's hate and ignorance could lead them to do something so horrible to such a sweet gentle soul as Blaine. He had done nothing wrong.

And yet, here he lay, pale and still and broken, presumably all because he dared to love.

I couldn't help it. I just gave in, lowered my head to my hands, and cried.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-


	2. Chapter 2

Three hours later, I was still just as completely in the dark in regards to Blaine's condition as I had been in the ambulance. He'd been rushed into surgery on arrival, and I'd been ushered into a small waiting room and given a mug of hot, sweet tea... and then promptly ignored until my father had arrived, demanding to know what was going on. He was simply told that as soon as they knew something, we'd know something. We were then led to the main Emergency Department waiting room and told to wait.

And so we waited.

The four of us sat in a line. My dad and Carole were to my left and Finn to my right. He was slumped down low in his seat, stretched right out with his long legs crossed at the ankles taking up far too much of the aisle between the rows of chairs, his arms crossed gruffly across his chest. To an onlooker, he may have appeared unbearably bored, but I could feel the tension rolling off him in waves and hear his teeth grinding in anger. Finn took his 'big brother' protector role very seriously, and I sensed that this attack on my sweet, gentle boyfriend was a great slap in the face to him. Finn had always had an amazing heart. Unfortunately, it was only after it had been broken a couple of times that he began to appreciate just how precious it really was.

Wes and David sat opposite us whispering quietly to each other. I had sent Wes a text from the ambulance knowing that the prefect would be concerned when Blaine didn't show up at the dorms that night, but he had surprised me by arriving at the hospital with David in tow not long after my parents had arrived. I had told him as much as I knew about Blaine's condition - which, granted, wasn't much - and they had sat down with us to wait out his surgery and hear the news that followed.

I was beginning to think the staff had forgotten about us altogether when I saw a tired looking doctor making his way towards us. He eyed the six of us and then addressed my father. "Are you here for Blaine Anderson?"

My dad nodded, and we all sat up to pay very close attention. The doctor took a seat two chairs down from Wes and addressed us as a whole.

"Blaine is in recovery now. His condition is still critical but he's fairly stable. He's certainly a very strong young man, quite the fighter." He smiled lightly at us, trying to comfort us all.

Carole spoke up. "Is he going to be okay?" Her voice was shaking, and it occurred to me that this was the first time I'd heard her speak since we arrived at the hospital. My dad slipped a hand into hers, squeezing it comfortingly.

The doctor gave her a gentle smile. "Well, Blaine suffered extensive injuries in the attack. Aside from the broken arm, which we've set, and broken nose, which you already knew about, Blaine also has two fractured ribs, a punctured lung, and seven stab wounds to his torso."

My dad's arms came around me at this news and pulled my head to his chest as I started sobbing brokenly. I heard his chest rumble as he spoke.

"Seven? We only saw two in his abdomen. Where were the other five?"

I glanced up at the doctor again, needing to hear this for myself. God, poor Blaine. I couldn't believe any of this. It had to be some kind of sick joke. This couldn't be real.

The doctor's voice was even graver as he continued.

"One was to his back below the left shoulder blade, which went straight into his lung. The other four were to his groin. We've taken great care to try to repair the damage as best we could, but at this stage it's too early to know what kind of nerve damage could have been done down there. Only time will tell, I'm afraid. The rest of his injuries are more superficial. He has a large gash from his lip to his chin, which we've had to stitch, and there were quite a few defensive wounds to his hands and arms. There is also extensive bruising to about 60% of his body. It will be a very long road to recovery for Blaine."

At this, he turned directly to my dad and Carole, addressing only them. "Now, I understand that you are not actually Blaine's parents?"

My dad shook his head. "No, we're not. They're not, uh, in the picture," he said slowly. "We will look after Blaine."

The doctor nodded, tight lipped. "You are aware that this is not going to be a short term commitment, right? Blaine will most likely spend several weeks in hospital before he can be released, and then he must receive full time care until he has finished healing. There may very well also be psychological damage here too. At the very least, Blaine will require some counselling and physiotherapy. Are you sure you are up to that? Because if you're not, we need to know now so we can make arrangements for him to be placed temporarily in a nursing home."

"No... it's okay," my dad said kindly, giving me a small squeeze with the arm that was still around my shoulders. "Blaine is very important to my family. He can stay with us."

Dad met my teary eyes quickly before turning his attention back to the doctor, who had begun speaking again. I just tuned him out. I rested my head against my dad's arm and closed my eyes.

"Thank you Daddy," I whispered.

He replied wordlessly with a quick kiss to my forehead before returning his focus to the doctor.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

About an hour or so later, we were told that two of us were allowed to go in and see him. Without even discussing it, my dad and I stood up and followed the intensive care nurse to Blaine's room.

He was awake, lying on his back and almost unrecognisable under all the bandages, but his good eye locked on both of mine the second I walked through the door. I raced to his side, pressing whisper soft kisses to his forehead, his cheeks and his hair. I was sobbing again, I knew, but I realised quickly that they weren't the anguished tears from before. These were 'happy that you're alive' sobs. Sobs which Blaine echoed with fervour as his tears poured silently down his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry Blaine. I should have stayed with you at the mall. We shouldn't have kissed like that at my car. I … I'm so sorry," I finished brokenly.

He reached out to touch my cheek softly, cupping it in the palm of his hand, trying to comfort me. His gaze never left mine. I heard my dad pull up a chair for me alongside the bed, and I gratefully sank into it.

We just stayed like that, staring into each other's eyes with our fingers linked together and resting on the stiff sheets beside him until my father broke the silence.

"Blaine?" he asked softly. "Can you tell us what happened? Who did this to you?"

Blaine's one open eye suddenly took on a panicked look, and his tears started again. I reached out my other hand to touch my dad's fingers, which were resting against my shoulder as he stood partially behind me.

"Not yet, Dad," I said gently, correctly interpreting my boyfriend's fear. "He needs a little time. He's not ready to talk just yet." I gave Blaine what I hoped was a comforting, supportive smile, not realising just how true my own words were at that time. Of course, I didn't know it then, but Blaine wasn't going to be ready to talk for quite a while.

I stood up to lean over him, kissing him gently and lingeringly on his forehead as I gently smoothed his hair.

"Don't worry, love," I whispered, low enough for just his ears only. "I'll stay here with you, I promise. You won't be alone ever again. I will not leave your side."

He gave me a grateful stare in reply. Within minutes, his eyes slipped closed and he drifted away into the peaceful oblivion of sleep.

I stayed there all night, never letting go of his hand, never leaving his side.

My guilt was incredible. I knew that if I hadn't left him alone in that car park, this never would have happened. That kiss - that damned kiss by my car - that's what had caused this, I was sure. The people who had done this must have seen that kiss and waited until Blaine was alone before they attacked him. That horrible three-letter-word scratched into the paint on his car had confirmed my fears; I'd seen it for myself when I walked out to the ambulance.

God... Blaine would cry when he saw what they had done to his beautiful car. He was so proud of that car, and I think, in a funny way, he felt that it was pretty much all he had left of his family. He and his dad had spent countless hours poring over that hunk of classic old metal in their driveway restoring it to its original beauty. Even though Blaine had always been well aware of his father's ulterior motives for wanting to get his son's hands dirty, Blaine still recalled that summer as one of the happiest times of his life, bonding with his dad.

And now even that was gone.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The police came in the afternoon but eventually left empty handed. Blaine still wouldn't talk.

I told them as much as I could and gave them my own theories, which Blaine listened to with tears in his eyes, but he had never even so much as nodded to confirm or deny any of them.

Nurses and doctors came and went, as did a stream of visitors. Classmates from Dalton as well as most of the Warblers and all of my McKinley friends stopped by, but Blaine wouldn't even meet their eyes.

He never took his eyes off me unless it was to sleep, and even then, I could sense his panic upon awakening. As his eyelids fluttered open, his hand would tremble and he would moan, only calming when he again locked his gaze on mine.

Though I was devastated that this had affected him so deeply, I couldn't help but be thankful that he could at least still be comforted by my presence. He and I had been there for each other so many times in so many different ways since we first met on the stairs at Dalton eight months ago, and if we had lost that trust that we had in each other, nothing would ever be the same again.

I wished with all of my heart that I could do something for him, something to ease the pain. It was obvious that my mere presence soothed him immensely, but I wanted to be able to do more than just 'be here' for him.

That second night, I stayed with him while my family went home to get some sleep. My dad had tried to convince me to join them, but I knew that Blaine couldn't handle me leaving him here. As it was, he had panicked when he had woken from a nap earlier to find himself alone. I'd only left him for a moment to use the bathroom, but his terrified screams tore me away from where I'd been washing my face in the sink. It had taken him ages to calm down from that, and I hadn't even actually left his room that time. I dreaded to think how badly it would affect him if I went home.

I tried to encourage him to talk to me, but he wouldn't say a word. Then I began to wonder if he  _could_ speak? I knew the gash on his chin must be incredibly painful. Maybe that was what was preventing him from communicating with me verbally? But wasn't like he had  _tried_  to talk and just found it too painful so he avoided doing so - as far as I was aware, he hadn't even attempted to speak since his surgery. Come to think of it, he hadn't said a word at my house either, so he hadn't actually spoken since the attack.

I had one more card to play. I looked Blaine straight in the eye and told him that I loved him. Since the first time we had exchanged those words some four months ago, he had never failed to reply with an "I love you too, beautiful." But as I sat gently stroking his hair while waiting for his reply, I choked on the realisation that there was always a first time for everything.

Blaine just wasn't ready to speak.

He'd soon dozed off again, and I'd begun to play scenarios in my head of what I  _should_ have done yesterday. Of course, the obvious one was asking myself  _why_  in the Hell I hadn't invited Blaine over to the house to join us for family dinner? Why hadn't that occurred to me? If I had, he would never have been left alone in that car park, and this disgusting assault would never have happened. But there were others as well, such as why did I have to make it so blatantly obvious that I was gay and that Blaine and I were dating? I'm not saying we should hide our feelings for each other, but we didn't have to be as flamboyant about it as I insisted we were. I wasn't ashamed of who or what I was, but if it caused this kind of pain to the boy I loved with all my heart, then maybe I shouldn't have been so 'proud' about being this way.

My dad's words from the night before my junior prom haunted me, and I kept running over them in my head. " _I think you're trying to stir the pot a bit,_ _trying to get some_ _attention."_ Even Blaine had advised me against giving people a reason to cause any trouble, but I didn't listen. Maybe if I had, the school might not have turned on me and tried to humiliate me by making me ' Prom Queen'.

Maybe I could have saved Blaine from this kind of treatment.

Maybe this was all my fault.

Maybe Blaine would realise this if I gave him any time alone to think things through... which I suddenly realised was another part of the reason why I didn't want to go home.

Because maybe, just maybe, he would decide he was better off on his own.

Maybe he would be right.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- 'Courage is not the lack of fear, but the ability to face it' –*

I woke early Sunday morning with a groan of pain, and an unyielding crick in my neck. I'd taken to sleeping in my hard plastic chair, with my head resting on the side of Blaine's bed, my fingers still permanently entwined with his, of course, but after a day and a half of this, it was beginning to take its toll. Blaine had tried, several times, to convince me to hop into the bed with him, but I was so scared of hurting him even further that I resisted, even long after I had begun to realise that it was hurting him more every time I said no. His body was certainly beginning to heal, but I was growing increasingly more concerned about what was going on in his head.

Of course, I completely understood why he was afraid right now. After what he had been through, not just with the attack but with the behaviour of his parents as well, it was completely understandable that he wasn't able to trust right now, but what concerned me was that he treated me like not just the only person he  _could_ trust, but the only person in the room. No, actually, not even just the room. In the world. I was everything to him now.

When it was just him and I alone, he was almost completely normal. My Dad had brought in a stack of brand new magazines for me, and I spent a good portion of the day sitting there reading the articles aloud to him, while he gently stroked my hair, or traced my earlobe with his fingertips, or traced his fingers in lazy circles across my back. Infact, the only time he was really comfortable and relaxed was when he was touching me. It was beautiful, and very touching that he found so much peace in having me with him, but I couldn't help but wonder what it would mean for us in the long run... if this behaviour was to continue. I loved that he needed me, but I was well aware that being  _needy_ in a relationship was not a good thing. Still... maybe I was being too harsh. It was only less that two days ago that he had been so brutally attacked, of course he would still be traumatised by it.

If he was spoken to by  _anyone_ , he wouldn't answer. He would instead begin to tremble, and sometimes cry, and attempt to hide his face under our linked hands, begging me with a silent plea to make them go away. Doctors seemed to bring out the worst reaction in him... and there was a certain young blonde orderly, probably in his mid twenties who Blaine was absolutely terrified of. Nurses were a bit better, he let them monitor his vitals signs and chart his progress with minimal fuss, but he couldn't look them in the eye. It was getting to the point where he didn't even like for our friends to visit, and when Mercedes and Sam came in on Sunday afternoon, hand in hand, armed with flowers and prayers and well wishes from their respective church groups, and Blaine started crying immediately, I decided that I had to do something. This couldn't just go on like this any more, he was getting worse by the day.

Mercedes and Sam both froze, just inside the door, when Blaine began his loud, fearful sobbing, and as I stared from his tearful face to Mercedes pitying frown, I realised that if anyone could calm him down, it would be me. Glancing at my friends by the door, an idea came to me.

"Sam? Sorry, but would you mind waiting outside please? I want to try something, just with Mercedes."

Sam quickly nodded, kissed Mercedes gently, then left the room. I gestured to Mercedes to stay where she was, then turned my attention back to Blaine.

"Blaine stop. Babe, Blaine... Blaine, look at me." He had turned his head so it was pressed into his pillow, and was gripping hard to the side of the bed with his good hand. I leaned over him, peeling his fingers off the bed bars and threading mine through his, and used my other hand to gently stroke his cheek.

"Baby please, look at me. Just look at me, okay. You know you can trust me, you are safe with me. Just stop, okay. Stay with me, baby. Blaine, look in my eyes."

It took a little encouragement, and lots of soft stroking of his hair and cheeks, and even a few gentle kisses, but I managed to get Blaine to calm down enough to turn over and meet my eyes. I smiled at him, and kissed his forehead.

"Thankyou babe. Listen, okay? You know I love you, right?"

His deep hazel eyes, so intense, so full of pain, met mine with ferocity and he nodded.

"And you know, I will never ever let anyone hurt you again, don't you? I would not let anyone come in here and hurt you. I love you Blaine. You are safe now, okay. You know that, right?"

His hand fluttered, and his tears welled in his eyes again. I quickly kissed them away. "You are safe Blaine. I love you, and I will keep you safe."

He nodded again, burying his head into the crook of my neck, holding me close. I kept soothing him, stroking his hair and gently squeezing his fingers that I still held so gently between my own.

"Okay, good Blaine. You're doing great. Now listen to me, okay? Mercedes loves you too, baby, and she only wants to help me keep you safe. She won't hurt you Blaine. You know that too, right?"

He began to tremble, but nodded against my shoulder. I stroked his hair, then reached out my hand for Mercedes, beckoning her closer.

"Can she come and sit here with us for a minute, just here, next to me. Look Blaine, Mercedes is holding my other hand, and I'm holding your hand too, and you're still safe. It's okay babe. You are safe. Mercedes and I will keep you safe, okay?"

Blaine hadn't looked up, but he hadn't pulled away and hidden under his blankets again either, which was definitely progress. I glanced up at Mercedes, who stood quietly beside me, tears streaming down her face. I squeezed her fingers gently, silently thanking her for her patience and compassion, and she quietly sank into the chair next to mine.

Okay, part one was complete. Now to push it just a little bit more...

"So, tell me what you've been up to, Cedes? Tell me everything that's been going on?" I gave her an encouraging squeeze of the fingers, hoping that she would understand that I needed her to chat for a while, so Blaine could get used to her presence. She was a smart girl, she caught on quick.

"Well, I dragged Sam along to my church this morning, so that the ladies in my choir could meet my hot man."

I heard a low chuckle from just outside the door, and I smiled.

"They were most impressed, I gotta say. Vera told me that I had to keep this one." Mercedes winked at me. "I told her I was planning to."

I laughed, and Blaine startled a little at the action. I turned to give him a light kiss on the cheek, and whispered in his ear. "I got you, baby. You're safe. You're safe."

Mercedes watched our little interaction intently, then pulled out her phone and began to type a text message. She kept typing, not looking up, as she continued.

"Mr Schue skyped us on Sams computer last night... he said he's staying on for a bit longer in New York, even though the April Rhodes show crashed and burned. He's going to audition for a minor role in a short running production of 'Hair'. Can you believe it?"

She slid her phone over to me so that I could read what she had typed.

_Puck and Finn have been in talking to security guards at the_

_mall. They have found surveillance footage of the attack._

_It's dark, and you can't really see their faces, but_

_the guys said they think they recognised one of them._

_You need to see this. Can you get away for a while?_

I shook my head 'no', as I gestured down to Blaine. I deleted what she wrote, and typed my own message while she continued to talk about Mr Schue.

"He said he'll definitely be back in time for the school year to start. He said he wouldn't miss it for the world. He's already planning what he wants us to do when we get to Nationals next year. Can you say 'jumping the gun'?" She smiled across at me as she said that, and I slid the phone back into her hand.

_I can't leave him alone, he freaks out._

_Anyway, I don't want to watch that happening to him._

_Does my Dad know? What about the Police?_

_How many guys were there? Who was it?_

She shook her head, and started punching letters into the keypad. I searched for something to say, to keep up the conversation.

"That's great that he's coming back, but it's a shame about his show. He had such high hopes for that April Rhodes show. Blaine and I had plans to do a road trip to New York at the end of the summer to see it, before we found out it was axed, didn't we babe?"

Blaine nodded against my neck, then with a deep sigh, he leaned back from me, onto the bed, and lifted his head a little.

He was trembling. I could feel it going right through his body.

Then he turned and looked straight at Mercedes.

She stared back, the phone temporarily forgotten in her lap, and gave him a gentle, cautious smile.

"Hey boo." She spoke kindly, softly. "We're all heaps worried about you, you know. All your friends love you tons, and we're all praying for you to get better."

I watched on in awe, as Blaine courageously kept eye contact with her. This was the first time since the attack that he had looked at anyone other than me without screaming, or crying, or both. His fingertips were digging so hard into my palm that I thought my hand would burst from the pressure, but I didn't care. I held my breath.

Mercedes reached out and very tenderly touched the fingers of his right hand, that was clutched against his body encased in a blue cast. Blaine gripped her fingers gently, tears welling in his eyes, but this time, they weren't tears of fear, I was sure. They were tears of pain, tears of gratitude, and knowing Blaine, probably tears to silently beg her forgiveness for having been scared of her; tears of shame.

She kept his hand in hers as she told him of the prayers that had been said for him, and of the song the choir sang for him, and of the churches dedication of today's service to him. She told him of all the flowers and cards and balloons that had been brought here to the hospital for him, but because he was intensive care, only a small number were allowed in his room, so then she told him how her and Tina and Brittany had taken most of the balloons and flowers down to the children's ward, to brighten things up for the kids. Blaine actually smiled at that. Then she pointed out all the cards lined up along the window sill, and the bunch of brightly coloured balloons in the corner, and the 6 vases of flowers lined up across the small shelf, and told him who each was from.

And then, when it was time to go, she leaned over and hugged him, but not before she carefully dropped the phone into my lap so I could read while he was distracted. But I couldn't help watching to see how Blaine would react.

And my heart melted when I saw that Blaine hugged her back.

_Looks like some football guy Puck knows, but he's not positive._

_They're checking on it. Your Dad is at the Police station with them now._

_It was 3 guys, and they ambushed him. He didn't stand a chance._

_He eventually managed to get in his car to get away._

_Oh, that reminds me. Ask your Dad about Blaine's car. :)_

The smiley face confused me, but I figured it had to mean something good. The last time I had seen Blaine's car, there was nothing good to see at all, so I took that to mean that my Dad had done something about it. I stood up and hugged her before she left, slipping her phone back into her pocket as I did so, and for the first time, Blaine even stayed relatively calm while I excused myself to quickly use the bathroom. Then, when I came back, it was to find that he had wriggled over in the bed, leaving more than enough room for me to hop in beside him. I smiled in spite of my concern, and cautiously slid my body in next to his, pulling the blankets up over both of us. He seemed like he had made so much progress in the last hour, and had managed to let go of so much of his fear, that I really thought that I had gotten through to him. We stayed like that for hours, earning a combination of sweet adoring gazes and disgusted sneers from the nurses, but I didn't care. If this is what my boy wanted, nay  _needed_ , to help him feel better, then there was no way I was going to deny him.

But unfortunately, as the next few days passed by in a blur of tests and procedures, not to mention the new roster of weekday nurses, orderlies, staff and Doctors, Blaine only continued to draw further within himself. It tore me apart, but I knew that I had to stay strong for him. I had made him realise that Mercedes wasn't a threat to him, in only a few short minutes, so surely that could work again, with other people? I just had to give him time. Or try harder. Or maybe I should just let his body heal properly before I pushed his head too much?

Urgh, I was so confused. All I wanted was to help Blaine get back to normal, but I had no idea how to do it.

I needed help.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Quote by Lt John B. Putnam Jr


	4. Chapter 4

On Wednesday morning Blaine and I were laying in his bed watching Aladdin on his laptop when we heard a gentle, tentative knock on the door, and we both glanced up. There was a young, dark haired boy of about 14 years old standing there who I had definitely never met before, but I knew in an instant who he was. They had the same chin, the same unruly, wildly curly hair, even their eyes were the same shape... but where Blaine's were a warm, deep brown, his little brothers looked more dark forest green. Blaine had spoken of his little brother Aaron before, but I never would have expected for him to turn up here.

I turned to gaze at Blaine, gauging his reaction. Well, he wasn't screaming or trying to hide, that was a good sign, so I deliberately tugged the corners of my mouth up into what I hoped was a welcoming smile, and beckoned the boy into the room, reaching across Blaine's bed to shake his hand.

The kid glared at my outstretched hand like it was covered in warts and sneered at me. I let the smile die on my face. So it was going to be like that, then. I sat back down, refusing to release my grip on Blaine's good hand, continuing to stroke the back of it with my fingertips.

"Blaine, Dad and Mom don't know I'm here. Ah... are you... you know, okay?"

He shuffled his feet, staring at the ground, clearly very uncomfortable and absolutely radiating aggression. I was suddenly very glad that it was only the kid brother visiting, not the Father.

The younger boy looked back up at his brother, waiting for an answer which he was not going to get, but I felt the sudden urge to remain silent and let him figure it out on his own. I knew the boy wouldn't appreciate me answering for Blaine, and I wouldn't fight with Blaine's family unless I absolutely had to.

"Dad and Mom are worried about you Blaine. Dads Doctor friend, that Bruce guy who he went to College with, well he rang and told Dad what happened to you. Mom wants you to come home, Blaine, so that she can look after you. Dad said you can, he said it's fine, as long as..."

The kid paused, and his eyes shifted to me, full of … well,  _confusion_  seemed to be the main thing, before continuing on.

"He said he just wants you to apologise for causing him and Mom so much grief, and for hurting them with all this  _fag_ stuff. They love you Blaine, we are your Family, and we all want you to come home, okay?"

Blaine had laid there, quite still throughout all of this, not moving or reacting at all, right up until Aaron had said the word 'fag'... then I noticed the tears in his eyes.

He turned to face me, and when the full force of those beautiful brown eyes connected with mine I couldn't help but smile. I didn't care that his brother was watching, I raised our linked hands gently up to my lips and softly kissed the back of his hand. He smiled back, and squeezed my fingers lightly, then pulled me in closer so he could kiss my lips. It was just a dry, closed mouth kiss, but I knew it was a show of defiance for his brother.

"Blaine?"

We heard the choked voice, but we didn't look up. Blaine's eyes took on a slightly pained look, and he just shook his head before burying it against my upper arm. I knew exactly what that meant. I stood back up, but continued to hold Blaine's hand and made sure that I didn't move too far away so that he could still hide behind my arm. I fixed his little brother with a sympathetic gaze.

"Thanks for coming Aaron. I would say that it was nice to meet you..." I shot him a slightly watered down version of my 'Diva' glare, "but it really wasn't. Tell your Dad that Blaine is still a Fag, and will be for the rest of his life, and I will be taking care of him from now on. I'm his family now."

Aaron looked rather lost, and quite stunned, and I felt more than a little sorry for him. His ignorance and fear, which I suspected came directly from his Father, was costing him an amazing brother. He stared down at Blaine, his lower lip quivering a little, as if he was fighting back tears, and I knew I had been too harsh. I sighed, but bit back my temper and tried again.

"Aaron, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. Blaine was very badly hurt, and I'm just a little defensive." I smiled, trying to get a reaction out of him, but he just stared. "Look, your parents have made their decision, which you and the other kids are kind of caught up in, but Blaine's being gay isn't going to just go away. If you can accept him for who and what he is, then I am sure Blaine would love to still have you in his life. You will always be his brother, Aaron, and he will always love you."

He turned on me angrily. "Why are you speaking for him? Let him speak!"

He grabbed the side rail of the bed, shaking it roughly. "Why won't you speak to me? Say something, Blaine. Dammit!"

I stepped quickly around the bed and grabbed Aaron by the hands, prying them off the bed before he could do any more damage to Blaine's fragile body, but the second I touched him Aaron threw his arms up, pushing me away, backing away from me in disgust.

"Don't fucken touch me, fag."

I backed up, hands in the air in surrender, but stayed safely between Aaron and the bed, shielding Blaine, just in case.

"He can't talk, Aaron. He hasn't spoken a word since the attack. In fact, most people can't even get near him without him breaking down into terrified sobs. You are only the second person he has ever let just walk straight in here, which shows me just how much he loves you. Don't turn your back on him, Aaron, please? Not over something as unimportant as who he loves."

The kid was crying now, and I wanted so badly to hug him, but I knew it would do more harm than good. I watched him wage an inner war with himself, with what he had been taught to believe, and I held a glimmer of hope that he might come around, given time. He gave his brother one more long, pained look, then turned on his heel and left the room.

I returned to my chair on the other side of Blaine's bed, sighing as I sank into it. We just sat in silence for a long while, staring at each other, quietly processing what had just happened. The forgotten movie sat there, the paused screen flickering occasionally until I closed the media player, then the screen, knowing we weren't going to finish the movie, before excusing myself to use Blaine's bathroom. I was in there for a long time, using the toilet and the handbasin, and then just staring at myself in the mirror, hoping my reflection would help me figure out if I had done and said the right things to Blaine's brother. Unfortunately, it was unforthcoming with answers, and I eventually tore myself away to return to Blaine's side.

I was unsurprised to find him asleep, but as I took my seat again, I noticed that the laptop was open again, and a new word pad note had been started. I stared at it in disbelief.

'Thank You

I love you, Beautiful.'

3

-.-.-.-

I didn't mention the typed note at all, when he awoke, hoping that if I acted like his communicating with me was no big deal then he might do it again. I helped him with his lunch, opening the stupid lid on his apple juice for him because I knew he couldn't do it with his broken arm, and I scraped all the peas off his plate too, because I knew he hated them. He had just finished eating when my Dad strolled into the room with Blaine's Doctor. Blaine's immediate reaction, as always, was to turn and bury his head behind my shoulder, but I could tell he was listening when the Doctor said that he could be moved to a Ward upstairs. His tremors started in his chest, quickly radiating out through his limbs, and he gripped my hand hard, painfully squeezing my fingers.

Although his fear of people had been increasing rather than waning, brother not included, I knew that he had been starting to feel comfortable here. Most of the ICU nurses were friendly and patient, and we had both gotten accustomed to the natural noises and routines around here. I instinctively knew that a change, right now, would not be a good thing for Blaine, but there was nothing I could do about it. He couldn't remain in ICU forever, in fact, I already suspected that they had kept him here a little longer than necessary due to his mental health.

Doctor Salling spoke to Blaine at some length about his injuries, clearly trying, as he did every day, to get Blaine to respond in some way. He explained that Blaine's newest chest x-ray was clear, the hole in his lung had repaired itself. We had all been rather worried when he had begun to cough up some nasty looking brown flakes a few days ago, but it was apparently just his body trying to clear his lung of the dried blood that had pooled there after the attack. Blaine's nose was also mostly healed... there was still some bruising, but the surgeon had done a great job of realigning it, so you could barely tell the difference from front on. His side-on profile was a little bumpy, but I would never tell him that, and his lip looked terrible, but I knew of some fabulous creams that could make scars fade, when it had healed enough I would help him reduce the scarring.

I watched with growing trepidation as the Doctor took Blaine's chart down off the wall and hung in over the end of his bed, and started unplugging monitors from the wall, then an orderly came in to help move his bed, and Blaine's trembling quickly turned to loud, frantic sobbing as he was wheeled out of the room. I ran alongside the bed, holding his hands in both of mine, trying to calm him, but nothing I said worked. I shot a glance at the orderly, he was stoney faced and stoic, and just kept on wheeling the bed away, not at all concerned with the emotional state of its occupant.

As the orderly took Blaine around a corner towards the elevators, the Doctor reached out and laid a hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

"Son, we need you to keep your distance for a little while. Take a break; go home and have a rest, and you can come back tonight, okay?"

I spun, trying to escape his grip, desperate to catch up to Blaine, but then my Dad was there, blocking my path.

"Kurt. He needs to come out of his comfort zone. The Doctor says he thinks your presence is making Blaine worse."

"Comfort zone?" I spat back, fuelled on by the sound of Blaine's cries that floated down the hall. My Dad shrugged, and I knew this hadn't come from him anyway, so I turned on the Doctor. "He doesn't  _have_ a comfort zone any more! His whole world is terrifying to him right now, and I'm the only one who can calm him down. How can that be making him worse? Are you just another one of these homophobic fools who is trying to keep us apart?"

"Kurt, that's enough." My Dad growled, but the Doctor didn't flinch.

"Kurt" he said gently. "I promise you, that's not it. My twin brother is gay, I attended his wedding a few months ago, and it was beautiful. This isn't about your relationship with Blaine. I need some time alone with him to try and work him out. We know that he acts this way when he has you there to keep him safe. We have to see how he is without that. I want to try to get through to him. I've consulted with the psychiatric team, and they agree, this is the best way to do this. Can you do this for us, to help him?"

While he was talking, Blaine's crying had ceased to echo the halls, but I knew that it wasn't because he had stopped. My best guess was that the orderly had taken him upstairs in the lift. The silence echoed around me, and I let my Dad pull me into an awkward, sideways hug as I admitted defeat, and nodded in agreance to the Doctors words.

My Dad reached out to shake a hand with the Doctor. "You'll call us immediately if anything changes?"

Doctor Salling nodded, and gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Of course. You clearly care for him very much Kurt, and you've done everything you can to help him. Now get some rest, you've earned it. I'll keep you posted."

"Wait" I said quickly, holding up my hands. "You have to let me say goodbye to him. Let me explain..."

The Doctor looked sympathetic, but shook his head.

"I think it's best if you don't, for now. He's already apart from you now, let's just leave it."

I nodded numbly, and let my Dad lead me away.

-.-.-.-

I don't remember the ride home, or even how I got inside. I do remember standing in the shower for what was possibly hours, the water so scalding hot my skin was angry and red, but I couldn't feel anything except the deep ache in my gut about betraying Blaine. He trusted me. He  _needed_ me. I should never have left his side. I shut off the water and dressed quickly, and ran downstairs to get my Dad to drive me back to the hospital, but he flatly refused to take me anywhere until I had eaten and had a rest. I fought him, I bitched and moaned and argued, but he wouldn't budge. Carole brought me a delicious smelling plate of moussaka and I fell upon it ravenously. I was well aware that my Smom had effectively put an end to my arguing, but in that moment I couldn't care... I would resume my demands to return the Blaines side when my belly was full of Caroles beautiful, nutritious cooking.

I had just speared the last mouthful with my fork when the phone rang, and I froze with it halfway to my mouth as my eyes followed my Dad as he answered it, and I plated the fork while I listened intently to the one side of the conversation that I could actually hear.

"Hello? Oh, Hello Dr Salling..."

My stomach lurched. Why would the Doctor be calling us at home? What had happened to Blaine? My Dad's eyes scrunched closed in reaction to something he had just been told, and he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

"Oh no... No. Of course."

I stood up and walked to my Dad's side, resting a hand on his forearm. He opened his eyes, pity and sympathy full and ripe in their depths, and held a finger up to silence me for a while longer.

"Of course Doctor. Yes, okay."

He looked down at me, and brought a hand to rest on my shoulder.

"No, I'll tell him. Thank you Doctor, we appreciate the call. We'll call tomorrow to see how he's doing."

I raised my hands in anger, shooting daggers at my Dad, but I stayed quiet until he finished the call. Tomorrow? No way! I was going back there tonight, one way or another. Blaine needed me.

My Dad thanked the Doctor again, and placed the phone back in its holder before turning to me. Finn and Carole had both come into the room at some stage during the call too, and were looking at him expectantly.

"I'm not waiting til tomorrow, you promised you'd take me back there tonight. Blaine needs me with him, Dad!"

My Dad sighed deeply, and put both his hands on my shoulders to guide me backwards into a dining chair.

"I completely agree with you Kurt, and so does Dr Salling. We know how much he needs you, but considering the circumstances..."

"What circumstances?" I demanded angrily, glaring into my Fathers tired eyes.

"Blaine has been moved to the High Care wing of the Psychiatric Unit, they need to keep him under close observation for the next 72 hours, and he can't have any visitors in that time. He tried to commit suicide this afternoon, son."

I'm honestly not very sure what my physical reaction was to that, I can only really remembering the room around me spinning, and then a moment later I was leaning over the kitchen sink vomiting up the contents of my stomach.

Suicide.

Blaine tried to kill himself.

"There's something else Kurt. I don't know if telling you this is going to make you feel better or worse, but I'm not going to hold anything back from you. You deserve to know the truth."

I took the wet face washer Carole offered me and wiped my mouth with it, leaning back against the kitchen bench, just waiting for my Dad to continue.

"Dr Salling was pleased to inform me that Blaine has started speaking again, which is a good thing, right? It's a breakthrough, it's progress from what we had..."

I nodded. Yeah, sure, that was great... so what about that was going to make me feel worse?

"What did he say Dad?"

My Dad looked nervously from me to Carole, and back again.

"It's just three words, son. Repeated over and over."

I steeled myself, knowing instinctively that the next words out of my Fathers mouth were going to be a kick in the guts for me. I think I already knew what they were going to be.

"It's your name, 'Kurt', he keeps saying, he's crying it over and over. 'Kurt. You promised'."

I felt like I'd had the breath knocked out of me. I slid slowly down, letting my legs fold beneath me as my body slid down the cupboard doors until I was sitting on the kitchen floor, and my head fell into my hands in despair. I felt I body appear beside me, and my Dad's hand rest on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, son."

I had promised him that I would never leave him again. I had promised him that for as long as he was in Hospital; for as long as he wanted me, I would always be there at his side. I knew how fragile he was, I knew I was the only one who could calm him, comfort him; Hell, I was the only one who could even be in the same room as him without him trembling in fear, and I had betrayed his trust and abandoned him. He must be feeling so alone, so hurt. Oh God, it was because of me that he had tried to kill himself. He thought I had left him.

"Please Dad. I have to get back there. Even if they won't let me see him, I have to be at that Hospital. Just... please?"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-


	5. Chapter 5

It was after 11pm when we got back to the hospital, and Doctor Salling had long since gone home for the night. I knew it was a long shot, but I had hoped to be allowed in to see Blaine, just to hold his hand, sit with him, even if just for a while, but the Psych Unit night nurses wouldn't even let me in the doors. I was told quite firmly that without special permission from Blaine's Doctor, I would certainly not be allowed into the ward for the next three days, until Blaine had been taken off suicide watch... and then she added, with a quirked eyebrow, that even if I had permission, visiting hours most certainly did not extend to 11pm.

She gave me a sympathetic smile, and told me to come back in the morning after I had spoken to Dr Salling, then she turned and walked back up the corridor, letting the security key coded doors slide closed silently behind her.

"Okay Kurt" my Dad said gently. "You heard her, let's go home, and we'll come back in the morning. You could do with a good night sleep in your own bed."

We were on the ground floor, right around the back of the hospital, and it appeared to be a very quiet wing of the Hospital. A small waiting room was on one side of the corridor, furnished with cosy looking 2 seater couches and a tiny TV mounted near the ceiling, which was played an old episode of Cheers. Well... it seemed like as good a place as any. I sank into a soft looking sofa and sighed heavily as I gazed up at his weary face.

"No Dad. I need to stay here. I can't leave him again."

My Dad gave me a frustrated, strained look.

"Kurt, he's in a locked ward, and you're not allowed to see him anyway. You're not doing anyone any good by staying here the night."

I shook my head defiantly, even though my tired, aching body was actually screaming at the idea of spending another night sitting up in chair, and I levelled my gaze on my amazing, wonderful understanding father.

"I'm not going anywhere Dad. It's bad enough that I left him once, I don't care that he doesn't know I'm here,  _I know_ , and I can't betray his trust by leaving him again. He's just down that corridor, somewhere. He's close by."

"Kurt"

"Dad, I know it sounds stupid, okay? But please, don't try and force me to leave here again? If I hadn't left him alone today, then he wouldn't have tried to kill himself. I need to be near him right now just as much as he needs me, I can't even explain it. I won't be able to relax until I can see him again, and know that he is okay."

My Dad stared at me for a few moments, weighing up my words, then conceded, sinking noisily onto the couch beside me, pulling my body towards his for a hug. I sighed, hugging myself into his side, my arms wrapped around him, the side of my face resting against his warm chest, listening to his heart beat.

He stroked my shoulder with his rough palm, and sighed again in defeat.

"You are so damn stubborn, Kurt. You're just like your Mom. Passionately loyal, she was."

He looked down at me with a lopsided, small smile.

"You know, she would have  _adored_ Blaine."

I smiled at the warm fluttering I felt in my chest at his words. "You really think so?"

"I know so. Really, what's not to like? The kid is pretty amazing, and he worships the ground you walk on..." I smiled at that, a blush rising high in my cheeks. "She would have been so proud of you, Kurt; of the amazing man you are becoming. Just like I am."

I could feel the tears starting to form in my eyes. "Thank you Dad." I whispered.

I sat up, leaning into the side of the couch so that I could look up at him properly. "You don't have to stay with me, Dad. I'm fine on my own if you want to go home to bed."

The words were barely out of my mouth before he was shaking his head. "No son, I'm not leaving you here on your own all night, sitting in a deserted waiting room. It's okay, I'm kind of getting used to sleeping sitting upright." He smirked at me, meaning it as a joke, but I couldn't help but feel guilty about denying my Dad a good nights rest.

"Sorry Dad."

"Don't be sorry, Kurt. Never apologise for being loyally devoted to someone, okay? A blind man could see how much you love Blaine, but especially after what happened to him, I am not leaving you here alone, unprotected."

I nodded, and reached out to my Dad, gripping his hand loosely in mine to show my gratitude. I had always known that my Dad was pretty incredible, but this past week had proven to me that he was even so much more than that. His acceptance of my sexuality was beautiful in and of itself, but the fact that it came from such an unconditional love for me, such an intense yearning to see me happy and have a wonderful life that he would accept the medical responsibility of my boyfriend, and show so much compassion and concern for him just because he meant so much to me, was just awesome. It blew me away.

Yet, in all this, I wouldn't have expected anything less of him. It was what a parent was  _supposed_ to do for their child, wasn't it? In all fairness, Blaine should have been able to expect exactly the same from his own parents, shouldn't he? It seemed unfathomable to me that my own father, who had known Blaine for all of about six months now, could have more love in his heart for Blaine than Blaine's own parents did.

Confused by my own thoughts, angered by the injustice of the world, and yet eagerly excited at the prospect of seeing my boy again in the morning, I shifted my body into a slightly more comfortable position. My head rested on the backrest of the sofa, my eyes slipped closed, and within minutes I was asleep.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Blaine and I were kissing.

His hands, firm but soft, were on my body, setting fire to my skin everywhere they touched. He stroked gentle, lazy circles against my ribcage with his fingers, gripping and releasing, while his other hand cupped my face, fingertips feathering in my hair, palm against my cheek while his thumb tenderly stroked my temple as his lips possessed mine.

I arched up into the kiss, moaning into his mouth, thrilling in the feel of his lips, his tongue on mine, his breath mingled with my own, our eyes saying to each other so much more than just those three little words. Then he moved, sliding against me just a little, his warm, toned body feeling delicious against me as his lips moved from my lips to my jaw, leaving a wet trail as he kissed his way down my neck, stopping there to nibble and suck at a small,  _very lucky_ piece of skin, making it hurt just a little, sparks shooting through my body and all going straight to a certain sensitive spot in my groin,as he marked me as his own.

"Kurt."

I felt a hand gently shake my shoulder. "Kurt."

Wait, that was my Dad's voice. I opened my eyes to find that I was still in the waiting room, my Dad beside me, Dr Salling standing in front of us.

"Morning, Kurt. I had a feeling I would find you here this morning.

I nodded dumbly, sitting up and stretching the soreness from my muscles. My Dad had clearly been up for a while, he was nibbling on the corner of a massive vending machine chocolate chip cookie, and I scowled at him and the offending baked goods, momentarily forgetting about the Doctor. My mind was struggling to wake up from that blissfully delicious dream.

Then the Doctor spoke again, and my dream was quickly forgotten.

"Sorry to wake you, but I thought you might like to see Blaine?"

I jumped to my feet in one swift movement, and the Doctor smiled at my exuberance.

"Hold up a sec, I've got to lay some ground rules first."

I nodded, swiping my hand over my face tiredly, and at his gesture, I sank back into the sofa to listen to him, gratefully accepting the coffee my father pushed into my hands.

"I've just been to check on Blaine, and he had a rough night, but he was given a sedative just two hours ago, so he's quite calm right now. He is slightly delusional and unaccepting, and mostly unresponsive... except when I mention your name. At this point, I think it would be beneficial for him to know that you are still here for him."

I nodded eagerly, agreeing with this opinion whole heartedly, and started to rise again, but the Doctor held up his hands to still me.

"Kurt, before you go in there, you have to understand a couple of things. One; Blaine is still on suicide watch, okay. As a general rule, I wouldn't allow him to have visitors, but I believe that Blaine will not break from his current state of mind until he has seen you. But, Kurt, I need you to be careful what you say to him. Don't promise him anything to do with staying with him all the time, I'm working on getting him a private room so you can stay with him, but even then, it won't be all day and night. He's in a secure ward, and there are strict rules to follow, for the safety of ALL the patients, not just Blaine. I can't let you spend nights here with him."

I nodded, but my first thought was  _'I wonder what Blaine is going to think of that',_ but I didn't raise it. At this point I would accept anything, as long as it got me through those doors quicker.

"And two, Kurt, this is important." He levelled a stare at me "Blaine is communicating again, verbally, but it's still limited to just three words. I don't want you to feel guilty about what he is saying, do you understand? I spoke to your Dad about this while you were still asleep, and he agrees. Forcing you to leave the hospital yesterday was probably what caused Blaine to harm himself, but you are in no way to blame for that. Obviously, he reacted more harshly than I had expected, but I still don't see it as a total failure. He is communicating now, which is a  _huge_ break in his status from 24 hours ago. I want you to try and keep him talking, if you can. Try and get him to talk to you, about anything. Happy memories are a great place to start, if you get stuck. I have a feeling that you are going to be a monumental part in Blaine's recovery, Kurt. Can you handle that?"

I looked him square in the eye. "Yes, Sir."

"Do you have any questions, before you go in there?"

I thought for a moment, then nodded; nervous about what his answer would be, but too morbidly curious not to ask.

"How did he do it? Last night, when he tried to..."

I couldn't say the words, but I didn't need to. The Doctor levelled his gaze at me.

"He smashed his water glass, Kurt, and used a piece of it to cut himself."

He spoke the words matter-of-factly, direct and to the point, not embellishing on the details, for which I was grateful. I nodded my thanks for his candour.

"Please, can I see him now?"

-.-.-.-

My Dad and I followed him through the secure doors, and down the wide corridor. I was practically skipping to keep up, nervous yet so keen to see Blaine that I couldn't contain my excitement. The Doctor stopped outside a door and hung back, and I preceded him into the room.

There was my Blaine, in the furthest bed, by the window. He was quiet and still, and didn't even look up as I approached him. I slowed dramatically as I neared the bed, very cautious now, suddenly scared of what he would do when he saw me, he seemed so out of it. His gaze was locked on something out the window, and he hadn't even noticed my movements in his room.

I was almost right beside his bed when he finally seemed to snap out of his little trance, and with a jolt, he turned to face me.

"Kurt?" His voice was soft, shaky and questioning. He closed his eyes tight for a second, scrunching them up, before opening them again and refocusing on me. "Kurt?" He asked again.

I reached out for his hand, linking my fingers gently through his, barely applying any pressure to them though when I realised they were all individually bandaged. I was momentarily shocked, but deliberately didn't react, I just smiled down at his beautiful face.

"Yes it's me, Blaine. I'm here."

"Kurt" He said again, a trembling reverence in his voice. He grasped at my hand, raising it to his face, rubbing my open palm against the stubbly skin of his cheek, the side of his nose, the silkiness of his cheekbones, just touching my skin to his own, and sighing, leaning into the touch, tears pooling in his eyes. His right arm, encumbered by the cast, awkwardly moved so he could grasp my other hand in the tips of the fingers that protruded from beneath the plaster, reverently touching my hand, stroking my arm... but it was the look of awe, and the heartbreaking feeling of utter disbelief that radiated from him that shook me to the core. Somehow, it seemed that Blaine had actually believed I had left him, that I  _could_ leave him, and now he was struggling to come to terms with the fact that I had returned.

"Kurt" he said again, in a whisper, and finally, he smiled. "Kurt"

"Blaine" I said gently, lowering myself carefully over him to embrace him, pressing tenderly passionate, desperately loving kisses to his face, tasting his tears, quieting his sobs with my lips and arms. He moved beneath me, positioning himself so that I could join him on the bed, realising far too late that I was actually lying between his legs.

I deliberately ignored the proximity of our crotches, but it wasn't easy to do considering my father was watching us intently from the doorway. What I had to say to him, though, was so much more important than where our bodies were, so I pushed it out of my mind.

"Blaine, love. Listen to me."

It took a little effort, but I managed to get Blaine to calm and pay attention to my words. When he was laying still, staring back into my eyes, I finally spoke.

"Don't you know that you are my everything? Blaine, I need you to  **know** with all your heart that I won't ever leave you. I want to be with you, Blaine, and nothing will keep me away from you, Understand? But sometimes, love, while you're in this hospital, I won't be able to stay with you every minute of the day or night. Sometimes, you need to have some time by yourself to rest, and to work with the Doctors so you can get better, okay? But I will  _ **always**_ come back to you, I promise."

He stared intently into my eyes, tears pooled in his, gently tracing my cheekbone with a bandaged finger.

"Promise?" He whispered softly.

I just nodded briefly before my lips found his in a soft, caressing kiss. We eventually broke it, both gasping for air, but I couldn't bring myself to move myself off his bed.

"I love you, Blaine."

It wasn't until the words were out of my mouth that I realised I had thrown him a sort of a challenge, daring him to reply in the manner that he usually did when I spoke those words to him. It hadn't been intentional, and after a few seconds I realised that I wasn't going to get my reply, but I didn't give up. Doctor Salling had specified that he wanted me to help Blaine communicate. There was no harm in trying.

So I pressed another kiss to his lips, and then spoke.

"I love you more than Bow Ties, Blaine."

His lips twitched up in a smile at that, and I knew instantly that I was on to a winner with this game. Blaine and I played this game all the time, throwing down the gauntlet with increasingly ludicrous and extravagant things that we demanded that our love was stronger than. Blaine was a champion at the game. I would never admit it to him, but he was way better at this than I was. I guess he had a more extensively exuberant imagination. But this time, I was gonna kick his butt.

I grinned. "I love you more than Non Fat Mochas."

He lowered his gaze from mine for a moment, and when he looked back up his mouth opened, as if he was going to speak, but then it fell closed again.

I wouldn't give up. "I love you more than watching Wicked being performed live at the Theatre."

"Kurt..." His eyes burned into mine, and I waited. And waited.

And I was just about to speak, and tell him that I loved him more than skinny leg jeans, when he spoke. His voice was low, broken and shaky, but full of conviction.

"I love you more than Katy Perry."

I gathered him gently into my arms, kissing him everywhere I could reach, and just let the tears flow down my face.

I was getting through to him.

Blaine was going to be okay.

-.-.-.-.-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I play the 'I love you more than...' game with my 8 year old daughter, and today we'd been playing for a few minutes, and it was getting more and more intense, (chocolate, roller coasters, pizza etc.) so I said to her 'I love you more than Darren Criss', and she gazed up at me with this awed kind of look and said 'Wow, I can't top that one! You win Mum!' LOL! Smart kid. :P
> 
> Reviews Are Golden. Duct Tape is Silver.


	6. Chapter 6

I spent the whole morning laying with Blaine, side-by-side in his narrow hospital bed. Nurses came and went, as did Dr Salling, but they soon discovered that their sedatives, and their concerns, were unnecessary while I was with him, so they took care of their business quickly and then retreated, drawing the curtains back tightly closed around Blaine's bed, and left us alone. I helped him again with his lunch, but due to his bandaged hands he seemed to have even more trouble today than before when handling his cutlery, and straight after lunch I got to see first hand exactly why that was, and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying.

Doctor Salling came into the room with Blaine's nurse to change his bandages, and at first he just sat passively in his bed, hand clasped warmly in mine while she unwrapped his arm. The Doctor caught Blaines eye with a sympathetic stare. I hopped off the bed, but stayed by his side, still holding his injured hand.

"You might not want to watch, boys."

Blaine immediately turned his head in towards me, and nuzzled in to my shoulder, but my morbid curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn't help my need to see the extent of the damage. I thought I knew what to expect, I had tried to steel myself for what I was about to see, but the reality of it was so much worse than I had imagined, and I cried out in a broken sob when I saw what Blaine had done to himself. His whole body clenched immediately, and I felt his shoulders start to shake with his silent shame. I tried to soothe him, but I have to admit I was distracted... I just couldn't take my eyes off his arm.

The whole of Blaine's forearm was covered in what looked like a type of plastic wrap, with a thin layer of gel between it and the dark red raw wounds that marred his beautiful tan skin. The three lines were thick, and deep and ragged, and the longest one went almost all the way to the crook of his elbow. Ugly black stitches held each of the ragged gashes in the skin closed, there must have been easily more than fifty of them in total, I couldn't even think clearly enough to count them at that moment.

I gasped in a deep, steadying breath and held Blaine tighter, closer against me, wanting so badly to be able to take some of his pain away. Blaine had been through so much.  _Too much._  I pressed a long, soft kiss to Blaine's temple before I gazed up to meet the Doctors eyes. He asked Blaine to flex his fingers, and Blaine obliged, stretching and wiggling his hand on demand. Doctor Salling felt each of his fingers carefully, and then his palm, then wiggled Blaine's thumb a little, feeling and piking all the way up to the wrist. He didn't speak at all, and when he had finished with the arm, obviously satisfied with what he had seen, he moved on to examine the stab wounds in Blaine's abdomen while the nurse wrapped a clean white bandage around Blaine's arm and wrist, down to his fingers. I realised in that second that the main purpose of that clean white bandage wasn't so much for protection as it was a disguise, and for that I was grateful. The plastic patch covering his arm was all it needed to heal, but Blaine didn't need to be able to see and be reminded of what he had done to himself.

I shook myself out of my reverie only to find the Doctor carefully removing the stitches in Blaine's abdomen, the neat edges now knitted together, leaving just a thin red scar over the stab wounds inflicted upon him in the attack.

"These have healed nicely. There doesn't seem to be any permanent internal damage from the blade, and the scars here will fade to almost nothing." He shot me a look, hesitating, unsure of whether to continue, but I think he realised that he wouldn't get any kind of a response from Blaine, and he had to tell someone.

"I can't say the same for his arm though. We had to surgically repair the damage underneath, it's still very early, but his circulation is looking good and he seems to have full movement and feeling in his hand, but only time will tell. At this stage, I am more concerned about the psychological effect the scars will have on him. The glass that he used left ragged edges, which will leave much wider, more visible scarring on his skin. He's going to be reminded of this every time he sees them, and that's going to be hard on him. He's going to need a lot of support to help him through this."

I smiled. "Well he's definitely got that."

-.-.-.-.-

They let me stay with him while he slept on the proviso that I was quiet, and did not disturb his rest. I nodded obediently and switched my phone to silent, and sent an identical text to both Mercedes and Wes, informing them of Blaines' breakthrough with his speech, and his move to the psych ward, but I didn't feel that it was my place to tell them how and why these changes had happened. Partially it was because I knew that it wasn't my story to tell, but also, in part, because I felt so guilty about it myself. Simply put, I knew that Blaine wouldn't have cut himself if I had kept my promise and stayed with him.

Mercedes hit me straight back, saying her and Tina were just leaving the mall, could they swing by for a visit? I felt a little guilty for omitting the absolute truth when I replied that he wasn't up for visitors. I couldn't tell her that he was in a locked ward without giving her the reason why. I hated lying to my friends, but it was either that or betray Blaines trust in me, and I certainly wasn't going to do that. Never again.

I spent several hours on the phone, texting Wes, Mercedes, Puck, David, Rachel and even Finn, who sent me a cryptic text about 'It' looking 'Awesome', and saying he couldn't wait til I got home to show me. I had a hunch as to what he might have been talking about, but I was already elbow deep in texts that I needed to reply to, so I just sent him a 'I'll be home by 8' in reply, and returned to Wes' text about packing up Blaine's dorm room. We had all decided that Blaine would be coming back to stay at my house after he was let out of hospital, and David and Wes had kindly offered to put a few of Blaine's personal items together to bring to the house for him, to make him feel more comfortable.

Pucks messages were the most interesting, but he was taking an awfully long time to reply to each of my hits, and one of the messages that I got from him was hopefully not intended for me, unless he really did want to know what colour my panties were... which I sincerely doubted, so I didn't bother replying to it. He had been telling me that he and Mike had been at the police station yesterday, giving their thoughts about the possible identity of one of the guys on the tape from the parking garage on the night of Blaine's attack, but it turned out that the guy they thought it might have been had a solid alibi for that night, he'd been at a College interview 200 miles away. The tape was so dark and static and out of focus that it really could have been anyone. All you could really be sure of was that it was 3 people, and one of them might not have even been a guy. It wasn't much to go on. The police had told Puck that they were wanting to try again to get Blaine's statement. I asked him when they were coming, but I never got a reply.

Rachel and Mercedes were clearly either texting each other as well, or they were both in the same room together, because they were both following the same line of questioning in regards to Blaine. By mid afternoon, Rachel had definitely managed to get something out of Finn, because she asked me what time I would be leaving Blaine's bedside tonight to go home, and without thinking I replied 'The nurses will kick me out at 7, i've been pre-warned'. Within minutes Mercedes was asking why I was being kicked out, when i'd been with him non-stop for the past two weeks. Okay, so I was going to have to tell them something. I knew they meant well, and they were only asking because they were concerned, but I did wish they would just accept my answers and not pry about things I clearly did not want them to know.

I was relieved when Blaine finally woke up, and I could just switch my phone off and enjoy being with him.

A young, dark haired guy with a clipboard came by soon after that to show Blaine some stretches and light exercises. I could feel myself smiling as I watched Blaine responding to him, listening and interacting in a way that I knew for a fact that he wouldn't have been able to do just two days ago. He still wouldn't speak, but the physiotherapist didn't seem bothered by that at all, which I think only increased Blaine's acceptance of him. Blaine was wobbly on his feet, this was, after all, his first time out of bed since the attack. The physio said that he wanted Blaine to start trying to get himself to the bathroom now, instead of relying on the bags he had been fitted with for the past two weeks. No more stitches in his groin meant no more lying around, and Blaine, for one, seemed eager to be moving forward with his rehabilitation.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The nurses politely evicted me from the locked ward at precisely 7pm, and despite the assurance that I had given him this morning, Blaine didn't take it well. I watched on helplessly as Blaine was given a sedative, and the soft wide cuffs of the velcro restraints were slipped over his wrists to keep him on the bed, after he made it quite clear that he intended to follow me. We had made so much progress today on the recovery of his trust, his normal behaviour, his speech and communication skills, but in the space of a few minutes I watched all of that hard work be erased, all because they had asked me to leave.

I knew I wasn't allowed to stay the night with Blaine in this ward, but I didn't see why Blaine couldn't be moved to a different ward, considering the circumstances. Suicide watch... important stuff, I was totally on board with them keeping an eye on him after what he tried to do yesterday, but Blaine was only a threat to himself when he was alone. If they would just let me stay with him, everything would be fine.

Of course, I understood that it wasn't healthy for Blaine to have suddenly developed such a dependence on me, but I truly didn't mind being everything that he needed me to be right now. Yeah, ok, we hadn't been together as a couple for all that long, but I wasn't going any where. Blaine  _could_ rely on me... I wasn't going to leave him hanging. I don't think the hospital staff understood that.

I was escorted to the electronic doors and reassured that they would take care of him, then the nurse turned and walked away, and the doors slid shut behind her with a mechanical whirr, and I was on my own.

Actually, I soon realised, I wasn't.

I turned to begin the walk to the parking garage when I spotted a familiar mop of dark curly hair over the top of the very couch that I had slept on in the waiting room last night. I groaned internally. I was so tired, and I really wasn't feeling up to being yelled at right now – but I had a hunch that he might have been sitting there waiting for me. And, even if he wasn't, there was no way they were letting him in to see Blaine, and I couldn't just leave the poor kid sitting there on his own all night with no answers.

"Aaron?" I called gently. No response. I walked a little closer, and only then could I make out the light snoring coming from the couch. I walked between the couches, intent on waking him, but something in his sleeping face stopped me.

God, he looked so much like Blaine. So innocent in sleep; unprejudiced and accepting and free from hatred and bigotry. I suddenly didn't want to wake him at all, because I didn't want him to go back to  _not_ being those things.

"Aaron." I spoke a little louder, a little sharper, and the boy sat up like he was jet-propelled, dazed and disoriented for a moment until he saw me, then a flicker of recognition lit his face as his eyes locked with mine with a trepidatious intensity. I gave him a gentle but weary smile.

"Hi. Sorry to wake you. I just thought you should know, they won't let you in to see him right now, it's too late for visitors."

He rubbed his eyes and yawned, but sat up and turned his body to face me.

"Yeah I know, I spoke to a nurse at the main desk. She said he was in a locked ward and that his Doctor had only cleared one person to see him, I figured it was you. What happened to him?"

I sighed, and sank into the armchair beside him. I wouldn't lie, but I didn't want to scare him either. I felt my hands fly up to fix my hair, a nervous habit that I had when I was thinking, or trying to avoid confrontation.

"They were a little worried about his mental health, and figured he could do with some extra attention, that's all. It's working already, he's speaking more, and he's not so scared of people." I smiled kindly down at him. "He even started physio today. He's doing really well."

Aaron shot me a pointed stare that was so much like Blaine it made me flinch. It was like he could see into my soul, and he knew I wasn't being truthful.

He raised an eyebrow.

"And... what aren't you telling me? They don't put someone in a locked psych ward just for some 'extra attention'."

I smiled in spite of myself, but hung my head, avoiding his eyes. Apparently Aaron wasn't as easily fooled as his adorably clueless brother.

"He's going to be fine, Aaron, you shouldn't worry..."

"Did he try to kill himself?"

I lifted my head and met his eyes, and he knew straight away what my answer was. He nodded slowly and dropped his gaze back to his wrist, where he was fiddling with the beads and rubber wristbands that decorated it.

"I thought he might have," he said softly. "I've been sitting here all afternoon trying to figure out why he's been locked up, and I knew it had to be for his protection, either from himself or someone else."

I met his gaze with tears in my eyes. If he thought anything less of me for crying, he didn't show it.

"I didn't think I should tell anyone about it. He's already so ashamed of what he did, I didn't want everyone to know. He wouldn't want their pity."

Aaron nodded. "No. You're right, he wouldn't. He's a very private person. He puts on a brave, outgoing face for the world to see..."

"But it's just there to keep people from getting too close. Laughter to hide the pain." I finished for him.

Aaron's mouth curled up at the corner as he eyed me curiously.

"You got past his walls?"

It wasn't really a question, but I answered it anyway.

"It's taken me a while. I think it helps that I have the same fears... and some of the same experiences. It's hard to openly and honestly be yourself when there are so many people trying to tell you that you're evil and wrong. Blaine and I understand each other."

I smiled a small smile at him, and touched his shoulder gently. He didn't flinch... that was progress.

"Come on, kid. I'll drive you home."

-.-.-.-

Forty-five minutes later I pulled into the Andersons driveway, and killed the engine. Aaron made no move to get out.

"Would your parents...? Umm, I mean, do you think they would want an update on how he is, or...?" I just let the question hang there, not really sure whether I would be welcome in this house at all, even to give them important news. Apparently Aaron had the same thought.

"I don't think you should. My Dad is..." he glanced up at me with shamed eyes, then dropped his gaze back to his lap again before continuing. "He's still  _very_ angry at you."

Puzzled, I turned in my seat to face him. I couldn't think of any possible reason for Mr Anderson to have a anything against me... except for my sexual orientation, of course... but even then. Why did that make him 'Angry' when just plain old 'Disgusted' would have done just fine?

"Angry at me? What? Why, what have I done to anger your father?"

Aaron twisted the strap of his school bag over and around his fingers so tight that I thought he was going to cut off his circulation, but he still refused to look at me.

"Well, he says that you're encouraging Blaine to be rebellious, and disrespectful. He thinks Blaine would have come to his senses and admitted his mistakes, and come home months ago, if not for you."

I laughed out loud at that, but there was no humour in the sound. It was a laugh of disbelief.

I couldn't even think of a retort. I just shook my head.

"Okay. That's fine, Aaron, I don't want a confrontation with him, it won't do us any good at this point. Just, please, pass on to your Mom that Blaine is doing a little bit better, okay? And tell her that we will continue making progress with him, and if she wants to help with that, I'm pretty sure that Blaine would welcome her with open arms. Please pass that along to her for me."

He nodded, gathered his book bag and hopped out of the car, but then he hesitated with his hand on the door.

"Thanks, Kurt. Thanks for looking after him."

I nodded, and as I did, a small rogue tear trickled down my cheek. I know he saw it.

"And... thanks for the lift."

I smiled. "Anytime kiddo. Oh wait, here..." I grabbed a pen and a gas receipt from the console and quickly scribbled my cell number, and held it out to him. To my surprise he took it without hesitation.

"If you ever need anything, or even if you just want to know how Blaine is doing, you call me, okay?"

He looked like he desperately wanted to say something, but not a word came out. Instead he just nodded, closed the car door, and walked up the driveway and into the house.

I drove home slowly, lost in thought. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just made a drastic difference in Blaine's brother's life, but I couldn't quite put my finger on just how it had happened, or what exactly it was that I did. All I knew was that it was a good thing. A very good thing.

And that was enough.

-.-.-.-.-.-


	7. Chapter 7

When I pulled into my street, my first thought was that one of our neighbours must have been having a party, but on closer inspection I realised that the majority of the cars parked on the street were familiar to me. I saw Sam's dad's Buick, Quinn's little VW Bug, Rachel's gold BMW, Mercedes' little beaten up Hyundai, Mike's SUV, Wes' BMW, and even Artie's dad's car, along with a few others that I couldn't put an owner to off the top of my head. I pulled cautiously into the driveway and parked behind Blaine's Chevy; I wasn't even remotely surprised to see Blaine's car back at our house. My Dad had told me not long after the attack that he'd had it towed to his workshop, and he and Finn were going to try and fix it up before Blaine came out of hospital. Seeing it sitting here, lovingly restored to its former condition, instantly filled me with love and pride for my amazing family.

Finn must have heard me pull up, because he came bouncing out of the house before I'd even gotten out of my car, my dad close behind him.

"God Kurt, I've been so worried. You left the hospital nearly two hours ago. Where were you? You didn't answer your phone."

Puzzled, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the screen. Thirteen missed calls. Huh, I hadn't even noticed.

"Sorry Dad, I didn't even think. It's still on silent from when I was at the hospital. I was just giving Blaine's little brother a lift home. He stopped by the hospital"

I gestured around at the cars. "What's with the party?"

Finn hung his head a little and slid his hands into his pockets, shrugging into what I knew was his 'guilty' pose.

"Uhm, a few of the Glee kids just wanted to come and check on you and get an update on how Blaine was."

I pinned him with a glare, a sinking feeling in my stomach. "What did you tell them, Finn?"

"Not much, I swear. I mentioned to Rachel that Blaine was in a secure ward and not allowed visitors, and well, she told Tina, and between the two of them they kinda figured out the rest. They're just worried, Kurt. We all are, you know?"

I closed my eyes for a second while I took this all in, exhaling deeply to try and calm myself a little before I let myself speak. I knew Finn meant well, but his inability to keep a secret was beyond irritating. If it had been just  _my_ secret, it wouldn't have been so bad, but the fact that all of our friends now knew about Blaine's suicide attempt really pissed me off. I was quite certain that was something that he wouldn't have wanted to become common knowledge.

"Dammit, Finn," I spat angrily. I took another deep breath, consciously trying to unclench my teeth. "How many people know?"

Finn met my eyes for only a second before he shifted his gaze away.

"All of Glee club... and a few of the Warblers."

He added that last bit in a low mumble, but I caught it nonetheless and shot him a glare. He continued before I could speak.

"Wes rang Rachel this afternoon, concerned because he couldn't reach you, and they wouldn't let him in to see Blaine at the hospital. Look Kurt, I wasn't trying to betray a secret, okay? Blaine's a good guy; he doesn't deserve what happened to him. Everyone is worried, and they all have a right to know something. We all really care about Blaine... and you."

My Dad had stood silently this whole time just watching the two of us talk, but as I stood there weighing Finn's words, he laid a firm hand on Finn's shoulder.

"Can Kurt and I have a minute, please, Finn? Go tell your friends he'll be in soon."

We both stood in silence while Finn made his way into the house, but as the door closed behind him, I turned to face my Dad, looking up into his face.

"He wouldn't want them all to know, Dad."

His gentle gaze never wavered. "He wouldn't, or you don't?"

I shrugged a little. "Both."

He nodded slowly. "Are you ashamed of him, for what he did?"

I shook my head quickly. "No Dad, not of him. I'm ashamed of myself."

He waited, obviously hoping I would elaborate on that statement, but I didn't want to tell him the rest. I didn't want him to know that I blamed myself entirely for what had happened to Blaine, but as it turned out, I needn't have bothered trying to keep it to myself. He already knew.

"Is that maybe because you feel somewhat responsible for what happened to Blaine at the mall, and for hurting himself at the hospital? Because you know that none of that was your fault, don't you Kurt?"

I could feel the sobs gripping my chest, but I wasn't going to let them go... but the anger? The anger I just couldn't contain.

I was just so angry at myself.

"No Dad, actually, I don't know that at all. It was my fault. If I hadn't kissed him like that, in  _public_ , none of this would have ever happened."

My dad's voice rose a little to match mine. "Homophobia isn't  _your_ fault, Kurt."

"No Dad, it's not, but I know it's out there, and all this could have been avoided if I had just done things differently."

He sighed heavily. "What could you have done differently to prevent this, Kurt? You weren't even there!"

I threw my hands up, frustrated and enraged. "Everything, Dad! Why do I have to be so damned obvious about it? Why do I have to look like this, and  _sound_ like this, so that everyone knows what I am? I hate that I can't even pretend to be normal and just fit in with everyone else."

My father let out a loud groan of frustration and gripped me tightly by my shoulders, forcing me to meet his eyes. "You shouldn't have to hide who you are. If you think for a minute that you need to do that, then you are letting those ignorant bastards win, and  _none_ of us," he gestured to all the parked cars around our house, "are willing to let that happen. Do you understand?"

"You don't understand! This is not your fight, none of you. This wasn't even Blaine's fight, but I dragged him back into it. He was safe up there at Dalton, protected and free of it all, and I dragged him back down into this homophobic hell and nearly got him killed. It should have been me, Dad. I wish it had been me, not him. When he comes to his senses, he'll realise that this is all my fault, and he'll probably never speak to me again."

He gazed down at me without a word, but I could see an internal battle waging in his head. When he spoke, his voice was a tight whisper.

"Taking all this guilt and blame on yourself isn't going to change anything, Kurt. Blaine will never blame you."

"How do you know that?" I spoke stubbornly.

"Because if he did, you wouldn't be the only person he is comforted by, would you? Have you seen the way that boy looks at you, Kurt? Do you know what that look reminds me of?" He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, extracting from it the old, tattered wedding photo inside. "He looks at you the same way your Mom used to look at me. I can tell you now, _he_ will never wish that it was you instead of him who took that attack. He loves you Kurt. He doesn't blame you for any of it."

The tears broke at that, and he pulled me forward into his arms. I collapsed against him as my body wracked with sobs that tore through me and out of my mouth in loud wails, muffled by the soaked shoulder of my dad's shirt. He rocked me through the worst of it, shushing me and stroking my hair. It was only after I had calmed enough to pull back from his embrace a little that I realised he had been crying too.

I have no idea how long we stood out there in the middle of our front lawn hugging and crying, but eventually we both pulled back, realising at about the same time that we were done. We'd had our moment, and I'm pretty sure we both felt a little better for it. Dad straightened himself up, giving me a small smile, which I returned sheepishly. He pointed a thumb at Blaine's Chevy.

"Did you notice the car?"

I smiled at him and nodded, grateful for the change of subject and for the chance to compose myself a little before I went into the house. He strolled over towards it and I followed; he was obviously keen to show off his and Finn's handiwork. I ran my hand along the door to the front quarter panel which, not even two weeks ago, had been marred by one of the ugliest words in the English language. It was now smooth once more and again sporting the rich, highly polished shine of cherry red paint. The dings and dents in the body and hood were gone, and the broken windows were replaced, leaving no trace whatsoever of what had been done to it in the attack.

This car was Blaine's pride and joy. He and his dad had built it together from the ground up three years ago now, and in some strange way, I knew that Blaine felt that it was his last remaining connection to his father. I still didn't know how much Blaine remembered of the attack, but the way I saw it, this car had saved Blaine's life. It had given him a means to escape from the brutal, and potentially fatal attack, and I was thrilled it was able to be restored, just as I knew Blaine would be for knowing it had survived.

I glanced up at my Dad with wet eyes and threw my arms around his neck, squeezing him tight.

"You are great. Thank you, really. This will mean so much to Blaine."

My father made a couple of fake choking sounds, and I took the hint and released his neck. He laughed, clapping me firmly on the back. The mood was officially lightened.

"Well, after all he's been through, we think Blaine deserves this. The doctor said he should be able to come home in a few days, hopefully. Oh! Remind me to show you the guest room later, okay?"

I shot his retreating back a confused glance as I followed him into the house.

"Dad, we don't have a guest room."

I heard him give one low chuckle, then I turned to face the large group of people in my den, and my dad's words were quickly forgotten.

-.-.-.-.-

I told them as much as I could,  _much_ more than I would have prior to my little chat with my dad, and I made sure to let Finn know with a few words and a hug that he was forgiven. I still felt that I was betraying Blaine's secrets by telling them how he had ended up in the secure wing, but Finn and my Dad were right. They were all our friends, and they all had a right to know what was going on.

Puck told us all about what and the other guys had seen on the tape. The police had already checked the dark, staticky parking garage footage against the much higher quality, better lit mall security tapes, but there were no groups of three guys anywhere to be seen. They'd taken some finger prints and other evidence from Blaine's car and clothing as well, but nothing had hit a match in their system, so really, until Blaine could give his statement, they had hit a dead end. Sam looked rather hopeful as he asked me if Blaine had shared anything with me about his attackers, but I just shook my head. I had told them that Blaine was talking a little now, which they all found encouraging, but no one was willing to suggest that I try to get Blaine to talk about the attack just yet.

Eventually they started to leave. Hugs and prayers were exchanged, and Carole bade them all goodnight as she showed them out in pairs or small groups until there were only three visitors remaining. Wes and David had hung back to show me what they had packed up of Blaine's belongings. They handed me a thick stack of get well cards from Dalton students who were still on campus over the summer as well as a ridiculously huge display of helium foil balloons before they both hugged me tightly and left together. I couldn't help but notice that Wes slipped his hand into David's, linking their fingers together before they walked out the door. I had to smile. Blaine had told me when I met them that both boys had girlfriends, which had of course been true at the time, but all the Warblers knew it was only a matter of time before the two guys realised exactly what they meant to each other.

"Hey," I called softly to their retreating backs as they stepped off the porch. They both turned to face me, and Wes was smiling.

"Are you guys together now?"

Wes met David's eye briefly and they shared a grin. I shot them one back.

"When did this happen?"

David lifted their joined hands to his lips, and placed a soft kiss to the back of Wes' hand. "About a week ago. Seeing what you and Blaine are going through kinda made us wake up."

I nodded, understanding perfectly. It's funny how seeing a person you care about lying in a hospital bed can make everything so much clearer in your mind.

"That's awesome, guys. Blaine will be thrilled; he's been predicting this for a while now."

Wes laughed at that. "Yeah, that's what all the guys have been saying. Apparently we were the last ones to know."

It made me smile. I would definitely tell Blaine tomorrow.

I closed the door behind them, and turned back to my final guest.

My rock.

I went and sank down into the couch beside her, and Mercedes wrapped her arms around me and just held me for a long time.

I finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry I lied to you today. I couldn't tell you over the phone, but I didn't want to leave his side for a minute to tell you in person."

She just smiled. "It's okay Kurt, I understand. Can you tell me now though, please?"

The way she said it, so caring and concerned, pleading me to let her in, I just nodded.

I told her everything that I hadn't already told her in text messages over the past two weeks. I told her about Aaron's first visit, and what had happened tonight when I took him home, and what he'd told me about his parents. I told her about Blaine's wonderful doctor, who I couldn't praise highly enough, and I told her about my being asked to go home, and what it had caused Blaine to do to himself. I told her that the Doctor was encouraged by Blaine's breakthrough in his speech and communication, and about his physical recovery, and the removal of his stitches and the commencement of his physio.

Of all of this though, Mercedes was particularly interested in Blaine's self harm, and she kept bringing the conversation back to it, asking me more about his attitude, his behaviour, his emotions.

I'd had a lot of time to think, and the more thought I put in to Blaine's emotional state, the more I was sure I was on to something. I had a theory about why Blaine had tried to harm himself after I had left him that day, and all the signs pointed to the fact that it had nothing to do with him thinking that I had abandoned him. He trusted me too much and welcomed me back too easily for him to have ever believed that I didn't care for him. I suspected that it may have been more contrived than that. I think Blaine did it as a way to take back the control over his own body that he had lost since the attack.

Mercedes furrowed her brow, interested in hearing my theories, although she did laugh at me at one point, and told me I had put  _way_ too much thought into this, but she agreed in essence with what I was getting at. I explained to her that whenever I tried to talk to Blaine about the attack or about his suicide attempt, he would close himself off to me. He would tremble and whimper and bury his face into my chest so I couldn't see his eyes. He was deeply ashamed and terribly fearful of people's judgements of him, and I was certain that the way he lost control over his own body when he was forced to feel that fear is actually what he feared more than the fear itself.

Then Mercedes asked me a question that I hadn't even consciously considered.

"You don't think Blaine was actually trying to kill himself, do you Kurt?"

Blaine had an image that he had worked so hard to perfect. The cool, calm, confident Warbler; the amateur rock star; the perfectly dapper boyfriend... the list goes on and on. People only saw what he wanted them to see, what he projected. They didn't see the vulnerable, scared, confused young man that hid in his past. The kid who was beaten up outside a Sadie Hawkins dance because he took a guy as his date. The kid whose father had never accepted his sexuality, even though he had suspected that Blaine was gay since he was six years old.

Putting on a "public persona" like that gave Blaine a sense of control over his life. With Dalton's "all types accepted, no bullying" policy, he could be the exact person he  _wanted_ to be on the outside and keep the more vulnerable parts of himself safely hidden away. Bold, bubbly Blaine was accepted, nay  _a_ _dored_ , and that Blaine didn't have to fear reprisal for being gay, or for not fitting in, or for disappointing his family. It was a defence mechanism. It gave him power.

But there was no power in being the victim of an attack and lying isolated and alone in a hospital bed. Losing my comforting presence from his side had been the final straw.

"No, you're right. I don't."

It had just been a way for him to shift the balance of power from  _them_ to  _him._

And in all honesty, I didn't think that it was such a bad thing. It just proved that my beautiful, intelligent Blaine was still in there, and that he was still able to protect himself. He was stronger than he gave himself credit for.

Mercedes promised to pray for Blaine and me, and I didn't have the heart to deny her that, so I thanked her and walked her to her car and hugged her tightly. It was almost midnight before I came back inside. My dad was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Dad turned and began to climb the stairs, beckoning for me to follow. We'd moved into this house not long after the wedding, and he had been so thrilled at the time to have a small room half tucked behind the top of the stairwell that he could use as an office. Well... best of intentions and all that, but the whole office idea never really took off. It was more like a dumping ground for boxes full of greasy fingerprinted tyre receipts and smudged oil change dockets, but when he opened the door with a small fanfare, I peered in with amazement at the transformation.

The boxes were gone, as was the filing cabinet, and instead of grease and stale air the room now held the nauseating chemical aroma of fresh paint. My old single bed was made up neatly next to the small window, which was wide open to try and combat the paint fumes. The desk that was once piled high in black-smudged papers was now clean and held only a reading lamp.

"I know it's small, but we thought Blaine might want some space of his own when he moves in here after he's released from hospital. I'll get him a wardrobe and a dresser, and Carole wants to make him curtains..." He had walked into the room and ran his fingers over the bent blinds that covered the window as he spoke. "It's not much, but we can make it nice for him."

"Dad, it's perfect. Thank you so much. It means so much to me that you would welcome him into our home. I just can't even..." I shook my head, lost for words. "He's going to love it."

**-.-.-.-.-**


	8. Chapter 8

-.-.-.-.-.-

Seventeen days after the attack, I sat in my chair beside Blaine's bed grinning like a Cheshire cat, holding his hand and practically bouncing with excitement at the news that I was allowed to take him home. Dr. Salling addressed both of us as he spoke, explaining the need for continued physical therapy, stretches and rehab and regular check-ups, but although his words were addressed to Blaine, we all knew it was me who would be taking responsibility for everything. I felt proud of the fact that the doctor considered me capable of such an important task; it felt great that he trusted me.

But I guess since I was still the  _only_ person Blaine trusted, it couldn't really have been anyone else anyway, but I didn't focus on that.

So, I sat there and I grinned wide enough for the both of us.

I had expected Blaine to be happier about the news that he was allowed to finally leave the hospital. It felt like months that he'd been in there rather than just a few weeks, but he didn't seem excited at all. He looked worried, actually. He wrung his hands and kept his gaze glued to the blankets on the bed.

I had to wait until the doctor left the room to get my answer from him, and I had been right. He was scared to leave the hospital.

He explained that, in some strange way, he actually felt safe in here now. Protected. He had me, he'd had his own private room since he'd come off suicide watch on Saturday, and I'd been allowed to stay with him well past visiting hours. He'd even started speaking to me in proper, formed sentences again, but of course that was only when we were alone. In someone else's presence, he wouldn't utter a sound.

Still, regardless of how he felt, he couldn't spend the rest of his life in this hospital. Release papers were signed, bottles of medications were given to me for safekeeping and follow up appointments were made, and then, just after lunch, my dad came to escort us home.

-.-.-.-.-

So, remember how I said that I was sure Blaine was going to love his new room and feel very comfortable and welcome in our home?

Well, I was half right.

Blaine did feel welcome in our home. He even told me so himself, later on, once we were safely ensconced in my room, alone together behind closed doors. He asked if I was sure if it was okay with my parents for him to be here, and when I had suitably convinced him that it was, he told me he was very grateful to them and asked me if I could please tell them how much it meant to him that they actually cared about his welfare. But when I suggested that it would mean a lot more to them coming from him rather than from me, he gave me a nervous look and snuggled down under the covers in my bed, effectively ending our conversation. So, with a sigh of resignation, I had snuggled down in beside him and pulled him into my arms. He had quickly fallen asleep with his cheek against my chest, his unbroken arm holding my body tight against his, and his curly hair tickling my neck, leaving me lying there, pinned down, to contemplate our situation.

The thing that concerned me most about Blaine at the time wasn't the lack of speech or the irrational fear. It was that his trust in everybody else in his world had been shattered. Safe people: his adoring friends, my friends, my family - Blaine used to have great relationships with these people, but now he couldn't look them in the eye. He would talk to me, his soft, slightly husky voice now edged with a tone of wariness. There was a tension that had never been there before the attack, and he was undoubtedly much more stoic than ever before, but still, he was using his words to communicate with me, and it felt wonderful that he trusted me enough to speak to me again.

But I was the only one.

Blaine still hadn't uttered a word to anyone else other than the medical staff in the first few days following his cutting episode (I refused to refer to it as a suicide attempt any more), and Dr. Salling now referred to his inability to speak as selective mutism. We were hoping that it would wear off with time; he had suggested that everyone in my family continue trying to break through to Blaine and not to act too surprised if they ever got a response from him.

So far, though, that hadn't happened.

Carole tried so hard. She fussed over him, bringing him treats and warm cups of tea, changing his bandages. The doting mother role was so much a part of who she was that it seemed almost effortless the way she welcomed him into our family. The closest he'd gotten to making a connection with her since the accident was the one time that he had nervously touched her hand when she brought us dinner in bed on his first night home.

Dinner in  _my_ bed that is.

Because that was the other half, the part that I got wrong. He didn't love his room. In fact, he didn't want to be in there at all, not if I wasn't going to be with him. Carole and I had taken him up there to settle him in once we'd gotten home from the hospital, but as soon as we had turned to leave, Blaine had followed us out. At first, I thought he just wasn't ready to rest, but it didn't take me long to realise that he just didn't want to leave my side. Really, I should have known.

Poor Blaine. I know he was so grateful to my parents for taking him in and trying to welcome him with his very own room, but he just couldn't be in there on his own. He wouldn't even sit down; he couldn't relax. I lingered in there with him knowing exactly what the problem was without us even needing to communicate about it. When I suggested that we watch a movie together in my room, he readily agreed. I was a little surprised at how quickly he snuggled in beside me on the bed, and before the titles had even finished rolling over the beginning of the movie, Blaine was snoring softly against my chest with his good arm latched loosely around my waist. It turned out that my father was less than thrilled at the idea of my boyfriend sleeping with me in my bed, but with a deep groan and a warning glare at me he conceded on the condition that we didn't 'get intimate with each other.'

Honestly, when he said that, at first I was shocked that he would even think such a thing. After what Blaine had been through, how could my dad even think that we would be ready for that yet? But the more I thought about it, the more I began to think that maybe my father was more aware of what was going on between my boyfriend and I since the attack than I had realised.

You see, romance, well the whole 'intimacy' thing in general, had always scared the utter crap out of me. My dad knew that unequivocally. I'd had feelings for Blaine for a long time now, but we'd never moved much past kissing, simply because I didn't feel ready to complicate our relationship with anything sexual. Since the attack, though, everything about my thought patterns had changed. Sex no longer struck me as a scary complication but more as just a way to express my love for this amazing boy that I wanted to share my life with. The attack seemed to have impacted us both the same way emotionally; it had intensified our feelings for each other and made us both more passionate about what we wanted out of our relationship and from each other. I had seen Blaine bleeding, broken and bruised, vulnerable and terrified of everything around him... but not of me. He trusted me implicitly, and it had moved me deeply. I'd thought long and hard about the extent of Blaine's trust in me, and I now knew that I trusted him in exactly the same way.

After all, what would love be without trust? Absolutely nothing. It could not exist without it, and I was getting to the point where I was ready to show Blaine that he was right to put his trust, and his faith, in me. I would never betray him, I would never hurt him. I wanted to show him with my love just how much he meant to me.

And if I was being entirely truthful, I couldn't help but think that it might be a wonderful way to help Blaine come out of his shell a little. You know, give him more confidence in himself and in our relationship. But I knew that I couldn't initiate anything like that with him just yet. I couldn't risk him rejecting me and then having absolutely no one left in the world to turn to.

Of course, I said nothing to my dad about any of this. All he got was a simple 'I promise, Dad.'

That would have to do... for now, at least.

-.-.-.-

Even I was a little surprised at just how easily Blaine and I adjusted to living together in the same room. I told him from the start that as long as he didn't try to take over space in my wardrobe, we'd be fine, and for the most part, it was. Blaine kept his things in his own room; his clothes hung neatly in the new wardrobe or sat folded neatly on the shelves with his dressings and medications lined up on the bedside table. The bed remained unslept in. He would go in there to change his clothes, but that was about the extent of it.

For my part, I was well aware that I have never exactly been the easiest person to get along with. I don't like compromise or clutter or mess or interruptions to my routines, but I quickly learned that Blaine was apparently the exception to those rules. His constant presence didn't make me feel crowded or stifled at all; in fact, I found it comforting to have him nearby.

We spent the first three days after his release from hospital up in my room watching movies while we lay together on the bed. I'd set alarms on my phone to remind us when Blaine's medications were due, and then I would coach him through his stretches and rehab. I had included a few of my own little additions to Blaine's routine, one of which was pure vitamin E oil capsules that I split open and poured over Blaine's scars.

I didn't want Blaine to feel like he needed to be ashamed of those scars, but I didn't want them to be a constant reminder of the brutal attack to him either, so I took it upon myself to help reduce their appearance. I knew the oil worked like magic; I had tried it out on a scar on my right shoulder a few months ago that I had gotten from Karofsky pushing me into the lockers, and now even upon close inspection it was barely noticeable. I desperately wanted it to have the same effect on Blaine's scars. The problem with this, though, was their locations and the fact that the oil had to be rubbed in.

The marks on his chin and back were easy, although I still felt a flutter go through me every time I gently caressed the soft skin of his back while rubbing the oil into that little mark on his ribcage. The two on his abdomen were within easy reach, especially since he only wore loose cotton pyjama pants these days anyway. The two thin red lines weren't far below his belly button, so that wasn't really forbidden territory, but the four in his groin were out of my jurisdiction. After I had tended to the four I could handle, I would split open another capsule and hand it to him, letting him do the other four himself while I had my back turned.

The rest of my planned program to facilitate Blaine's full recovery included diet and exercise. Surprisingly, these two were the hardest to implement.

Blaine had had next to no appetite since the attack. I had noticed his reluctance to eat food when he'd been in the hospital, but I had just put that down to the fact that it was tasteless hospital food, and no one in their right mind would actually eat more of it than they needed to survive.

In my house, though, I had expected Blaine to start enjoying his food a little more, especially now that Carole was clearly going out of her way to make everything irresistibly appealing to Blaine's taste buds. She'd grilled me, pardon the pun, to get as much information about Blaine's favourite foods as possible, but apart from a perfunctory mouthful or two, he just wasn't interested. I knew it wasn't his fault; he was anxious and fragile, but how was I going to help him heal his body if he wouldn't give it healthy fuel?

When nourishing food didn't work, Carole tried sweets. She made us cookies and bought us donuts, much to my horror, but by that point I would have been happy to see him eat anything. She even went to The Lima Bean and brought Blaine back a serving of his favourite biscotti and handed us both Grande sized coffees of our preference. Blaine smiled at her gratefully and took a sip, and Carole beamed at me as she swept out of the room, but the second her back was turned he put the cup down on the bedside table. I removed it later before Carole could find it because I didn't want to hurt her.

And the exercise? Well... I had a snowball's chance in hell of getting that to happen.

Yeah, okay, I had a bit of a double agenda with the exercise thing. I wanted to see if I could get Blaine to come outside the house with me. I thought the fresh air would do him good, and I thought it might help him to know that he didn't have to fear the world that was outside these safe four walls, but he wouldn't budge.

As frustrated as I was by his reluctance, I was more disheartened by the fact that he wouldn't even tell me why he wouldn't do it.

On Thursday afternoon, three days after Blaine came home from hospital, I overheard Carole making arrangements for a Labor Day picnic, and at the sound of those two words, the reality of the outside world came crashing down on me with full force.

The new school year began the day after Labor Day.

Summer was over. This was our senior year. Blaine was supposed to go back to Dalton in four days.

There was no way he was ready for that. Considering the circumstances, I was certain the school would grant him a little leniency, hopefully allowing for a little more time off without affecting his ability to graduate this year. They had to understand; he couldn't even bear to leave the house just yet, let alone to return to live in a dorm room.

Not unless, maybe, I went with him.

I cringed at the thought. I didn't want to leave McKinley, but I would do it if I had to. For Blaine.

But I knew my parents couldn't afford it.

Maybe, just maybe, there was another alternative.

Maybe Blaine could come to McKinley.

I approached him about it cautiously, waiting until the house was quiet and dark and the sounds of a Disney movie being filtered through the speakers of my laptop were the only thing breaking the silence. I sat behind him on the bed as he leaned against me, my legs encompassing him and his head against my chest. I gently stroked his curls with my fingers, and although I couldn't actually see his face, I was fairly certain his eyes were closed.

"Blaine, baby. Can we talk about something?"

He made a non committal noise in his throat that I took for a yes, so I continued warily.

"School starts again in a few days. I didn't realise it until just now, but it's nearly Labor Day. I go back next Tuesday."

Blaine just sat in silence, twisting the duvet between his fingers. I kept my voice soft, low and calm.

"What do you want to do, Blaine? When you are ready, will you go back to Dalton, or do you want to come to McKinley with me?"

His breath hitched, and I watched his body be physically consumed by the early signs of a panic attack. With gentle touches and soft words, I laid him back down in my bed, shushing and comforting him. I understood so little about his triggers, but I was starting to narrow it down, and I suddenly knew without a doubt which word that I had just spoken had triggered this fearful response. God, I just  _needed_ him to talk to me.

I curled my body around his, holding him tight and stroking his soft, tanned skin. He was still for so long that I assumed he had fallen asleep, so when his words came I was first shocked by the fact that he had spoken at all, then secondly by their content.

The words were monotone, his voice lifeless.

"I can't ever go back there, Kurt."

His voice was so low, it was barely above a whisper.

"Why, Blaine? What do you mean?"

With my hands on his shoulders, I managed to turn him a little so he was facing me, and his eyes burned into mine with naked fear as he spoke his next words.

"He'll kill us."

I stared back, confused as ever.

"What? Who?"

He just shook his head. Who could he possibly be talking about, though? Why would one of the Dalton kids say that to Blaine? Or for that matter, when had Blaine last spoken with anyone from Dalton? It had to have been weeks ago, before the attack. Dalton had their strict no bullying policy. Still, I suppose, just because the school didn't tolerate it didn't mean that all of the kids were automatically accepting of everything. Surely some would still have their prejudices; they just wouldn't be able to act on them on school grounds.

Then the penny dropped. The attack.

With shaking hands, I turned Blaine to face me again and made him meet my eyes. My voice shook and my eyes pierced his, searching deep within him for the truth, not yet daring to believe it on my own.

"Blaine, tell me who said that?"

Blaine's eyes were full of terror as they met my gaze, but he didn't say a word.

"You know who it was, don't you?" He turned his head away, burrowing into my shirt, but I was suddenly fuming, and the rage gave me strength. I turned him easily in my arms so I could look into his face.

"Blaine. Tell me! Did you know the guys who attacked you? Are they from Dalton?"

He curled in against my chest, hiding his face and clawing at my shirt with his fingers. Then, with tears pooling in his eyes, Blaine gave a small nod.

"Just one of them."

I just stared at him in disbelief, absolutely lost for words, until he leaned forward and kissed me gently on the mouth.

"But I can't ever tell you who it is."

-.-.-.-.- 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive 'Thank you' to my beautiful wifey, MissKaterinab for betaing, and for providing me with Klaine appropriate American breakfast foods. She writes 'Pavarotti's Legacy', and it's awesome guys, go check it out.

Blaine's words echoed in my head over and over.  _I can't ever go back there... he'll kill us... I can't tell you who he is._

All this time it had never once occurred to me that Blaine might have known his attackers. I had always thought it to be a random hate crime triggered by them witnessing our passionate goodbyes in the parking lot, but now I had to wonder if it was planned. If they'd been following us. If Blaine was even the intended target. God, what if they were actually after me, but when I left, they directed their hate towards him instead? I would never forgive myself if that was the case.

I'd only managed to get one more detail out of Blaine before he'd fallen asleep in my arms, and that was only because I was in tears as I begged him to tell me if it was somebody he'd considered a friend. Was it somebody I knew? Somebody we trusted? In my mind, that would explain why his trust had been so shattered, but all he would say was that it was not one of the Warblers. Well, that was something at least, but it didn't entirely answer my question.

I didn't sleep at all that night. Every single face that I could ever recall seeing in the halls or the classrooms of Dalton pushed its way to the forefront of my mind as I searched my head for anything that would give me a clue as to who it was. I hadn't been at Dalton long enough to learn everyone's names, but I was fairly certain I was familiar with most of the faces. I planned to go to the police station in the morning and ask to review the security footage tapes of the mall from that day. Blaine couldn't do it, and I understood why, but that didn't mean I couldn't try to figure it out on my own. The bastard who did this to Blaine was not going to get away with this... not if I could help it.

Blaine groaned and his body bucked in my arms, snatching me from my reverie. I held him tighter, stroking his hair and whispering gentle words until he calmed again. He was restless tonight - more so than usual - and I suspected it was due to the fact that he'd spoken to me for the first time about the attack.

It was progress, I knew that, and that was definitely a good thing. I just hoped that it wouldn't agitate his mind too much to be recalling all this stuff. I knew that it was important for him to talk about the attack, but I didn't want to risk losing that little bit of  _my_ Blaine that I had only just gotten back.

As it turned out though, I was wrong again... but this time, I didn't mind at all.

When I stepped out of the bathroom the following morning, freshly showered and dressed but still sporting the turban-towel on top of my head, I was rather shocked to find Blaine sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for me. Fully clothed.

I did a double take. It had been so long since I'd seen him in something other than pyjama pants or hospital gowns that I nearly didn't recognise him. Of course, the fact that his face was now bare of the three weeks' worth of stubble that had been growing there unhindered since the attack also played a large part in that. He'd done a fairly good job too, considering he still had one arm in a cast and the other bandaged and stitched; he'd only really missed the split skin between his lip and his chin, which made that one strip of hair look a little out of place, but it was still a vast improvement.

I met his eyes with a tentative smile and reached out to stroke his smooth cheek with my fingertips.

He moaned. "That feels so good Kurt" His words were husky, apparently much sexier sounding than he had intended because once they were out of his mouth I saw him blush. "It had gotten so itchy."

"When did you do this?" I inquired softly, still intrigued by the feel of his soft skin. The sight of him clean shaven gave me butterflies. He looked years younger, like a massive weight had been removed.

"Oh, just now, in the main bathroom."

I know it was a simple thing, but I felt a swell of pride for him... of accomplishment. He had done this for himself, by himself, to make himself feel better. It was another positive step.

I smiled at him, both my hands on his smooth cheeks, and tilted his face up to mine, brushing his lips softly with mine, then pulled back to meet his eyes as i spoke.

"I like it. You look 17 again."

He pushed forward again, recapturing my lips in a deeper kiss, and I moaned lightly at the sensation, letting my arms slip around his shoulders to hold him close.

"I know. I did it for you. I knew you'd like it."

I just nodded, hesitating for only a brief moment before I pulled back out of the hug and reached for his hand. His slipped inside mine instantly, with complete trust, and I felt my chest flutter at the simple gesture.

"You've got that doctor's appointment today. Are you going to be okay?"

He nodded but didn't look so sure. I knew that it wasn't the doctor himself he wasn't comfortable with. It was more the idea of going out. Out of the house, out in public. I couldn't blame him for being nervous.

"You hungry? Come have breakfast with me."

His breath hitched nervously, but he stood, gripping my hand tightly, and let me lead him down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Carole was already there when we walked into the kitchen, her back to us as she washed dishes in the sink. She turned to greet me with a good morning but stopped dead with wide eyes and gaping mouth as she noticed Blaine standing beside me.

Her voice went up about three octaves when she spoke, but apart from that she did moderately well at not making a big deal out of the fact that Blaine was suddenly standing in our kitchen after four days of hiding out in my room.

"Can I make you boys something? Finn just had waffles, so the iron is still hot." She stared hopefully at Blaine, but when he wouldn't even make eye contact with her, her eyes drifted to me.

Blaine moved and sat at the table but kept his head bowed. I gave Carole a sympathetic smile, sort of as a 'thanks for trying', and I rubbed Blaine's shoulder gently as I replied to her.

"Thanks Carole, but I'm just going to have cereal." I squatted down next to his chair, just below eye level. "Do you want waffles?" It wasn't quite a whisper. He bit his bottom lip and just shook his head. I glanced around at the pantry for inspiration.

"Cereal?" I offered. He nodded shyly.

The difference between this Blaine and the one in my bedroom from ten minutes ago was so vast. It baffled me as to how and why Blaine could be so terrified to even speak a single word about something as harmless as breakfast choices in front of my gentle, accommodating step mom. I knew I had to give him time to adjust, to find his niche in this household before he would truly feel comfortable here, but I just wanted so badly for him to realise how safe he was in this home. He didn't need to cower from these people.

Didn't he know that? How couldn't he know that?

I walked over and opened the pantry, kneeling down to read the labels. "Blaine, we've got Kashi, Cookie Crisp, Apple Jacks or Froot Loops." I rolled my eyes as I turned back to face him. "Yeah, all the sugar crap is Finn's, but I bet you're not going to complain about that, are you?"

Blaine smiled up at me, cocking a triangular eyebrow. I picked up the Cookie Crisp and shook the box, and he just grinned and nodded at me.

Carole laughed. "Okay, I'll just leave you boys to it then." She started to walk out of the kitchen, but she stopped and turned, coming back a little closer to Blaine's chair. Her hand hovered in the air, but she knew better than to try to touch him.

"Blaine, honey? I just want you to know that we are all so happy to have you here. We want you to feel comfortable here, and we'll all do anything it takes to make that happen, okay? This is your home now." She glanced up across the room at me. I was watching Blaine carefully from between the open pantry doors, cereal boxes in hand, just monitoring his reaction. She glanced back down at him, her hand merely inches away from fluffing the curls on the back of his neck, but she managed to resist.

"If you ever need anything honey, I just want you to know you can come to me. Or Burt," she added as an after thought, "Or even Finn. We all want to help you, okay?"

Blaine just reached over and started fiddling with the condiments in the centre of the table, not acknowledging her at all.

She shot me another quick, comforting 'mom' look and disappeared out the door.

I tried to carry on as if nothing had happened.

I set the cereal boxes down on the table and grabbed bowls, spoons, and the jug of milk. Blaine seemed to physically relax as soon as Carole had left the kitchen and even quietly thanked me when I handed him a spoon.

I smirked at his adorable, childish grin as he poured some milk over the little chocolate cookies. His face had lit up, clearly delighted with the treat, and he moaned at the taste of the first mouthful.

I laughed.

He moaned again. This time it was an incredulous sound, and I glanced up into his deep, sparkling hazel eyes, loving the happy smirk that graced his beautiful face.

I grinned back. I didn't want to point it out to him right then, but his large bowl at that moment in time possibly held more food than he had consumed in the entire four days that he'd been in our house.

This was my boy, back again, and I loved seeing it, however briefly. It was so typical of the old Blaine to show cracks in his armour at the prospect of a sugar high. He'd be jumping on our furniture next.

I laughed at the thought as I watched him shove another large spoonful of the chocolaty cookie chunks into his mouth.

"You like those, huh?"

He nodded emphatically but replied quietly. "Oh God yes. My mom never let us eat this kind of stuff."

But then his face fell as he remembered his mom, and he fell silent.

I poured myself a bowl of Kashi and sat down beside him, eating together in comfortable silence.

Happiness was returning to him. It was brief and sporadic, but it was there, and it gave me hope. I knew that one day, hopefully in the not too distant future, he would be able to return to normal, let go of this fear and just be 'Blaine' again.

But I knew that that could never happen while his attackers were still out there. I had to find out who they were... I was determined.

But first we had a check up to get to at the hospital.

-.-.-.-

Dr. Salling's office was at the rear of the hospital near the psych ward.

I found it funny (not funny haha, but funny ironic) that, four days ago, I had struggled to get Blaine to leave this place, and now I was struggling to get him to come back. He didn't want to be there - not in the hospital, not near those nurses. He clung to my hand and followed me obediently, his footsteps heavy and petulant, the side of his face pressed against my arm as we walked.

The hospital strength chemical bleach smell assaulted our nostrils as we sat in the examination room waiting for Dr. Salling to join us, and Blaine fidgeted nervously, not letting go of my hand.

But the fidgeting only got worse when Dr. Salling sat down across from us and began to ask us questions about Blaine's health, progress and moods. He listened intently as I tried to describe, as delicately as possible since Blaine was sitting right beside me, the differences in his behaviour when it was just him and I compared to how he was around my family.

Dr. Salling nodded expectantly and then spoke to us at some length about selective mutism.

Blaine's selective mutism had obviously been triggered by the attack. It was most commonly seen in younger children, but it wasn't an unusual response to an incident like what Blaine had been through. He explained how in children, the treatments varied from case to case, but in adults the most effective way to help Blaine deal with it would be medication. Obviously some counselling and therapy would be essential too, but those would take time to implement and become effective. He prescribed an SSRI anti-depressant drug for Blaine and handed me the script.

Blaine flinched repeatedly as the doctor removed the stitches from his arm, but it wasn't from pain. I was sure of it. It was the touch of the doctor's gloved hands against his skin that Blaine couldn't stand. Dr. Salling tried to talk him through it, tried to comfort him, but addressing him directly was only making Blaine worse. When it was finally all done, stitches removed and the whole site swabbed with Mercurochrome, Blaine bolted off the table and stood by the door, waiting for me to leave.

But ten minutes later, he sat beside me in my Navigator, laughing and joking just like old times.

I loved this boy with all my heart, and I knew his behaviour was normal after his ordeal, but his emotional ups and downs were giving me whiplash. I wasn't quite sure what to do about it.

When we got home, the house was empty. I had intended to leave him here while I went to the police station, but since I wouldn't leave him home alone, we went upstairs to my room and cuddled up together on my bed watching Aladdin on my laptop instead.

Blaine had dozed off after the movie, and I guess I had too. The sound of Finn and Puck chatting as they walked up the stairs woke me, and I carefully disentangled myself from Blaine to go talk to them. I then picked up my keys and left for the police station.

The guys would keep an eye on Blaine for me. He'd probably stay asleep for a while yet anyway.

He'd be fine.

-.-.-.-.-


	10. Chapter 10

I'd been sitting still for so long that I could feel pins and needles in my ass cheeks, but I didn't dare take my eyes off the monitor, not even for a second. I readjusted my position; I was now sitting up further in the chair, leaning forward onto my thighs to relieve the pressure and pushing my face in closer to the screen.

The bastard just  _had_  to be here somewhere.

The screen was split into sections, the closed circuit TV footage from four different parts of the mall all crammed onto the grainy screen. It was a quicker way of searching for the offender, but I was so nervous I was going to miss something important that I was too scared to blink. If I thought I could spend countless uninterrupted hours in here poring over the videos, I would have, but I was so worried I could get a frantic phone call at any moment from Finn about Blaine that I thought the shortcut was the better option.

I was nearing the end of the second tape when I saw it. It was just a glimpse in the bottom corner of the screen; as it was I nearly missed it completely, but the flash of a familiar face caught my attention. I stared with my mouth hanging open as a tall, muscular guy wandered across the screen with his arm casually resting around his girlfriend's waist.

It was Jon.

But no, this couldn't be right. Jon was a Warbler, and Blaine promised me it wasn't a Warbler. It wasn't someone he considered a friend. Jon was 'Meatbox,' the Warblers' resident beat box master. A sweet, funny guy with a heart of gold and a friendly bear-hug that could just about break you in two. He was Blaine's friend. He'd even come to see Blaine in hospital after the attack. There was no  _way_  he could have been involved.

Still, he was there, and the time stamp was from about a half hour before I had left the mall. It was possible that he had seen us.

No. I was being ridiculous. Paranoid even. Jon would  _never_ hurt Blaine, I knew that. But maybe it wouldn't hurt to go and talk to him anyway. He undoubtedly knew more Dalton kids than I did; it was possible he had seen someone at the mall that day that I didn't even recognise. Or maybe he, or any of the other Warblers for that matter, knew of someone who wasn't as tolerant and accepting as they should have been despite the school's no bullying policy. It was very possible that someone with enough money and influence could manipulate the rules a little and fly under the radar that policed the strict rules at Dalton. I had yet to tell Wes and David about what Blaine had told me the other night. I don't know why I hadn't even thought of going to them.

I finished watching the tape, but I had long since given up hope of finding the culprit on it. I had a new plan in mind. I had to go to Dalton. I was certain I would find out more there than I could by watching tapes.

I rang the bell for the sergeant, and he escorted me back through the halls to the exit. We had spoken at length when I first arrived about what Blaine had told me, but apparently none of it was admissible as evidence because it was 'hear-say'. Until Blaine could give the police a statement, their hands were tied.

Well, there might have been nothing  _they_ could do, but I was only just getting started in my search, and I was determined to find some answers.

I'd just gotten back to my car when I got the call I'd been dreading all afternoon.

Blaine was awake.

-.-.-.-.-

Finn was in the garage when I got home, the roller door already up, and my headlights captured his panicked expression as he searched frantically through one of my dad's huge toolboxes. I left the engine running to keep the lights powered as I jumped out of the car and ran around the front of it to meet him.

"I need a crow bar, Kurt. Does Burt have one here?"

I just nodded as I made my way towards the left side of the garage where my dad kept a large chest full of spare parts. In it was a tyre-iron. I dug it out and held it up for Finn's approval. He snatched it out of my hand.

"Yep, that'll do it."

He ran back towards the house, and I followed, hot on his heels.

"Wait, Finn. What's it for? Where is he?"

Finn didn't even pause. He just continued into the house and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. But when he spoke, his words were enough to stop my heart.

"He's locked himself in your bathroom, Kurt. We could hear him crying at first, but now it's just silence."

I leapt soundlessly up the stairs behind him, closing the distance quickly so that by the time we reached my bedroom, we were rubbing shoulders as we ran. Finn burst through the door first, but I jumped up and over the bed, so I beat him to the bathroom door.

"Blaine!" I screamed through the wooden door, pounding on it hard with both fists. "Please Blaine, it's Kurt! Let me in. Blaine, open the door!"

Finn skidded to a halt beside me with the bar raised in his hands. Puck was standing on the other side of Finn, waiting expectantly and glancing back and forth between Finn and me. I had never, in all the years that I had known him, seen so much fear on Puck's face.

There was still no sound from the bathroom. My mind had immediately jumped to the worst case scenario of what we would find once we got the door open, and I shuddered at the thought.

I tore my eyes away from the timber and peered desperately up at Finn. Nodding, I said, "Do it. Quickly."

Finn slipped the flattened end of the iron into the small gap between the door and the frame and pulled hard. The wooden frame creaked and split, but the door held fast. I watched on impatiently as he pushed it in deeper and changed the angle, again splitting the wood, but the door itself just didn't want to budge.

I was about to take the iron off him to try it myself, but Puck beat me to it. He roughly pushed Finn out of the way, snatching the bar, but instead of going for the door knob Puck aimed his attentions at the other side where the hinges were. He aimed high and yanked backwards, and we all heard a loud metallic creak, and then he repeated the motion down low. The door wobbled. With one good hard shove of his shoulder, Puck barged through the door into the bathroom.

My eyes found Blaine immediately. He was seated in the bath tub, arms locked firmly around his knees and his face buried from sight as he rocked back and forth. Relief flooded me quickly as I realised there was no blood anywhere. I stumbled over the broken door into the bathroom, falling down on my knees beside the tub to pull him into my arms. He flinched violently at my first touch, but then his eyes found mine and recognition hit him, and he sobbed aloud as he pulled me into his arms.

I'm not quite sure when my tears started exactly. All of a sudden I just noticed that they were there. They blinded me and choked me and flooded my face, all at the same time.

"Jesus Blaine, you scared me," I whispered against his neck.

Now that my panic was gone, anger set in hard and fast. I tightened my grip on Blaine, holding his head against my chest as I turned a vicious glare at Finn and Puck.

"What the fuck were you two doing? I asked you to keep an eye on him. How could you let this happen?"

Yeah, ok. Forgive me, but I was in shock, and I'd never exactly been famous for thinking before I spoke. Finn just stood there staring at me with his mouth hanging open, trying to think of something,  _anything_ _,_ to say to defend himself. My angry tone had clearly scared Blaine, but it was nothing compared to the trembles that shook his body as Puck turned on me, his own anger unleashed in a burst that echoed throughout the tiled room.

"Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell were we supposed to do, Kurt? He realised that you had gone out, and he just fucking lost it! He's fucking messed up, Kurt, and you are not gonna be able to fix him with a few hugs and softly spoken words of encouragement. He needs professional help. All this bullshit is only making him worse."

Finn had come to his senses by then and had stepped up to Puck, trying to calm him down, but Puck just shook off his hand and advanced on me, continuing with his tirade.

"And you! You  _knew_  this was going to happen when you went out and left him alone. You  _knew_  what he would do!"

Blaine turned to face me, his eyes wide and frantic and his fingers clawing at my neck. I tried to calm him down, or even just catch his hands, but the louder Puck got, the more freaked out Blaine got. Puck seemed to realise this and lowered his voice, more concerned now than angry.

"If you care about him, Kurt, let him go back to the hospital where they can give him the proper care that he needs. This is so much bigger than you."

I held up a hand to stop him, but I think it was Blaine's now very audible sobs that ended Puck's rant more so than my feeble attempt to silence him. I stood carefully, bracing myself against the side of the tub as I hooked my arms around Blaine to help him stand up. With a little coaxing he stepped out of the tub and, still safely wrapped in my arms, followed me back into the bedroom.

-.-.-.-.-

I lay with Blaine in my bed, silence surrounding us once again. The laptop was propped up in front of us with an episode from season three of  _How I_ _M_ _et_ _Y_ _our_ _Mother_ playing on the screen, but not even Neil Patrick Harris could lighten my mood at that point. I was too lost in my own thoughts.

My father was due home at any minute, and I knew he was going to lose his mind when he heard what had happened and saw my bathroom door. Finn and Carole were downstairs waiting for him, hoping to subdue him with a few beers and the promise of his favourite meal before they broke the news about today's events.

I heard him get home, and I strained my ears for any raised voices or sounds of anger, but there were none.

Nothing at all... until I heard a gentle rapping on my bedroom door. I knew it was him.

Blaine started at the sound, and deftly I tucked him in under the covers beside me before I granted my father permission to enter.

He opened the door slowly, obviously trying to avoid scaring Blaine with any fast movements or loud noises, and while I appreciated his efforts, it suddenly hit me just how much of a strain this all was on my family. They were incredibly selfless to want to do this for Blaine, and for me, too.

"Hey Dad," I greeted him with a smile. He returned it heartily, but I watched his face cloud over again as his eyes flickered from the Blaine-shaped lump under the blankets beside me to the carnage of my bathroom door.

"Hey kiddo." He approached the bed, leaning in close to kiss my forehead, ruffling my hair as he pulled back. I shook him off quickly with a mock scowl, quickly smoothing out my fringe again. "Hey Blaine. How are you feeling now, son? Any better?"

Of course Blaine didn't move, or react, or indicate in any way whatsoever that he had been spoken to. My dad sighed, and his eyes locked on mine in a sympathetic gaze.

"Look, guys... I need to say something. I just need you to hear me out, okay?"

I didn't like the sound of this, but I nodded my agreement. My eyes fell quickly to Blaine, but he hadn't moved.

"Yeah Dad, what is it?"

He sighed again. "Well, your friend Noah visited me at work tonight, just as I was closing up. What happened today really shook him up, and he's worried that Blaine might need more help than we are able to give him, son. He said he thinks Blaine is getting worse, and I have to say, I'm inclined to agree with him." He shot a pointed look at the bathroom door and raised an eyebrow. "We got very lucky today, son. It could have ended a lot worse than it did, and I think you know that."

I just nodded, bowing my head and fighting back the tears. Of course I knew that. It was all I'd been thinking about since it had happened. Pictures filled my head: the pictures that my mind had created in those few seconds we spent trying to break through the door of the bathroom covered in blood, of Blaine broken and bleeding...

"Yes Dad, I know."

His voice softened even more. "I think I should speak to his doctor to find out about a treatment facility for him."

"No Dad... he wouldn't be able to handle it. Just look at him. A facility would be the worst place for him right now!" I hadn't meant to raise my voice at him, but my frustrations at this whole situation were really getting to me, and I couldn't keep it in.

Blaine had begun to tremble again under the blankets, and my dad watched on in silence for a while as I tried to soothe him. Finally I glanced back up at him, meeting his eyes.

"Okay, Kurt. How about I make you a deal? If Blaine takes his medication and keeps his appointments with his psychiatrist next week and shows  _any_ signs of improvement, he can stay here, but only for as long as he is getting better. If he gets any worse then he's going to have to get professional help, okay?"

He moved to sit down beside me on the bed, resting a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"I know you'll do anything for him, Kurt, and I think it's wonderful that you would do that. But you have to understand that I will do  _eve_ _rything_ I have to do to protect you, too, and right now, I'm worried. I'm worried about both of you. This is an important year of school for you. How are you going to concentrate on school with all this going on? I know you might not care about that right now, but it's important, Kurt. By the same token, how do you think Blaine's going to handle it when you go back to school next week? How is he going to cope without you all day, every day, when he can't even handle you going to the police station for a few hours?"

I tried to shush his last words, but they were out before I could stop him, and I know Blaine heard him. I hadn't told him where I had gone this afternoon, and I hadn't planned to.

"Okay Dad. I know what you're saying. Can you just... I don't know, maybe leave it with me for a while? Let me talk to him, okay? I'll let you know."

"Alright. I'll leave you to it. Dinner's in half an hour."

Dad closed the door behind him when he left, and Blaine turned instantly to face me, clearly hurting.

"You went to the police?"

I nodded, trying hard to meet his accusing stare without flinching. "Of course I did. I'm going to find who did this to you, Blaine, with or without your help."

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Please don't. I just want you to drop it, Kurt. I shouldn't have told you anything. Just... don't. You're going to get hurt."

"For fuck's sake, Blaine, look at yourself! You're letting them win.  _This_ is what they wanted. They've  _broken_ you. They've turned you into a cowering victim, Blaine, and you're letting them beat you! I want to make it so that you're not scared anymore, can't you understand that?"

Blaine raised his eyes to mine at that, a faint glimmer of a smile on his lips. "I swear, Kurt, if you break out into a rousing rendition of 'Fix You', I'm leaving."

A bubble of laughter burst from my lips, and I smiled down at him in spite of my frustration. He grinned back up at me, the tension of the moment forgotten as he pulled me down to him, and I let my body slide down the bed so I was lying beside him. His hands touched me everywhere, stroking my arms, gently fingering the outline of my ribcage through my shirt, reverently caressing my face. I kissed him softly on the lips and trailed my mouth back along his cheek, up over his cheekbone, grinning at the deep groan he exhaled like a breath against my neck. His own lips pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses from my jaw to my collarbone, and I arched my back to let him get closer. His strong arms held me flush against his body as he gently assaulted my neck with his lips and tongue. I finally had to force myself to pull away when I could feel the clear evidence of his arousal pressing against my thigh... not that my own was any less obvious to him, I'm sure.

I moved back just enough to lay my head down on my pillow, gazing across at him, still cupping his cheek in one hand while the other rested possessively on his chest. The smile still played about his lips as he watched me. I loved seeing it there again.

"You're so much stronger than this. I love you, Blaine, but I just don't know what to do here. I want you to get better. I'll do  _anything_  to help you, but that's just it; I have no idea of where to even start."

He gave me a weak look, and I knew that he couldn't help his behaviour. It wasn't deliberate, we all knew that.

"Just be here with me, Kurt. That's all you have to do."

I shook my head in protest. "But it's not enough! Listen to me. They're gonna take you away from me if you don't start getting better. I don't want that, and I know that you don't want that. You have to try, baby. You've gotta show everyone that  _we_ can get through this together, or they'll send you away to a hospital so they can fix you and I won't be allowed to visit you except on weekends and you'll be sedated... "

He silenced me with an abrupt kiss, his lips moving against mine with a frantic intensity, and I once again allowed my concerns to be subdued by his affections. All of this was a lot for him to take on in one go. He'd had a hectic day, and I had to admit that I was pretty impressed at his chosen form of distraction - his lips were pretty damn effective. I sighed when we finally parted. My fingers traced the outline of his lips, touching gently at the scar that marred his beautiful face. I wished I could just erase all of his pain.

When I spoke again, it was in urgent whispers against his lips.

"Please, Blaine. Please. You have to try. Just talk to my dad or something. Do  _something_ to show them that you're not as messed up as they think you are. I know that you're not, Blaine, because you can totally be yourself again sometimes when you're with me. You have to show them."

Blaine nodded softly, turning his molten hazel eyes up to meet mine as his warm hands stroked the bare skin beneath my thin sweater.

"Okay. I'll try. Don't let them take me away, Kurt, please? I need you. I'm safe with you... I won't go back to the hospital. Not if they won't let you stay with me."

"I don't want that either, baby. So we'll try this, okay?" I rolled quickly out of his arms and off the bed, leaning back over to offer him a hand. He took it hesitantly, giving me a questioning look.

"Come downstairs and have dinner with us all. You don't have to talk to them yet if you don't think you can," I said quickly, trying to abate the panic I saw rising in his face. "But maybe you could talk to me?"

He looked scared again, but I looked on hopefully as he took my hand and pulled himself across the bed. He tentatively stood at my side, meeting my eyes.

They were so trusting as they stared intently into mine. So full of love for me. It made me smile.

"We'll just start small, okay? Relax and enjoy dinner with the family. You'll be safe, I promise. Okay?"

He nodded, biting his lower lip. "I'll try."

-.-.-.-.-

And try he did.

My family was a little shocked at first; I don't think even my dad had expected something this soon, but they quickly fell into the normal routine. Finn fetched glasses and poured drinks; I set the table while my dad carved the meat and Carole served up the dinner. When I noticed Blaine looking a little lost, I just handed him a stack of cutlery.

His eyes went a little wide for a moment, and I laid a gentle hand on his arm to soothe him, but even as I watched on he managed to calm himself. He slowly began to walk around the table, depositing a knife and a fork on every place mat. Such a simple task, but it was the little things like this that would help get him back into the everyday normalcy of life.

He sat quietly beside me at the table as we ate. My dad and Finn were discussing their hopes for the upcoming football season, and I could see Blaine twitching a little beside me. I'm sure he would have loved to join in, and I'm certain that my dad was deliberately leaving little openings in the conversation in the hopes that Blaine would jump in, but he didn't.

He picked at his plate. Carole had made a delicious pot roast, my dad's favourite, but Blaine ate only a little of it. He would pop a small portion of meat into his mouth only when he was certain no one was looking in his direction, but it was more than he'd been able to do in nearly a month. He was doing so well.

I was already so proud of him. This in itself was a huge step forward for him. But I knew him well, and I could see him working his way up to something. I just wasn't sure what it would be.

The table was momentarily quiet when it happened. Dad and Finn were eating and Carole was sipping at her wine, but they all stopped and stared in amazement at the sound of his voice.

It was so quiet, but he may as well have been screaming from the attention he drew from my family.

"Kurt, can you please pass the water?"

I turned to meet his eyes with a look that I can only hope was filled with all the pride that I had in him, and I smiled softly. My fingers quickly found his and gave them a quick squeeze before I reached across the table to grab the pitcher from in front of Carole. I met my dad's eye for a second, and he winked. I grinned back.

It was so much more than I had expected... but then again, that was Blaine all over. He never ceased to amaze me.

-.-.-.-.-


	11. Chapter 11

Blaine showered before bed, which I have to admit was a little awkward due to the missing bathroom door. The fact of the matter was that we were not yet at the point in our relationship where we could just 'drop trou' and stroll around, comfortable with the concept of being naked in front of each other.

The very see-through glass shower door was directly opposite the missing bathroom door, which could have allowed me some quality perving time while Blaine was indisposed, had I actually had the desire to do it... but I didn't. When we did eventually get to that point, I wanted it to be through mutual agreement that we were both ready for it, not because I had cheated and taken advantage of a situation. Although, I have to admit that I was no longer freaked out at the idea of seeing him naked. It was more that it just felt unusual to not be able to give him the privacy that we usually afforded each other, even while sharing a room.

But hey, I'm still human. Just because I wouldn't do that to Blaine doesn't mean I wasn't tempted. I had long since been an avid fan of Blaine's backside, and I longed for the day when I could see it in the flesh, if you pardon the pun.

It was strange to realise just how much between us had changed. Only a month ago I would have certainly stated that I was the one of us who was holding back the physical progression in our relationship, but now, I kind of felt like there was nothing to be scared of any more. Blaine and I had experienced something together over the past few weeks that made the fear of intimacy seem terribly obsolete.

I retreated to the opposite corner of the room from the bathroom door. I sat at my desk with my laptop, deciding to use this time to do a little more research. I was determined to find out as much as I possibly could about Blaine's condition. Wikipedia had been invaluable in teaching me the ins and outs of 'Selective Mutism', and while the guidelines on treatment of it in adults were wavy, it was still very clear to me that Blaine's progress tonight at the table, speaking in front of three other people, was enormous. Even though he hadn't spoken  _to_ them directly at all, it was a major breakthrough for him to have spoken to me with them within earshot.

I heard the water shut off and the shower door open, and I deliberately kept my head facing the computer screen. After a few minutes I heard him come back into the bedroom, his footsteps coming towards me. I spun the chair a little to greet him, and my breath caught in my throat at the sight of him wearing nothing but boxer briefs and a smile. My mouth actually fell open - I felt it happen - at the delicious sight before me, and my face flushed as I glanced away and down at the floor, averting my eyes as my maturity caught up to and overtook my embarrassment at having an almost very naked boy in my bedroom.

If Blaine was at all aware of my inner turmoil, he didn't show it. He strolled casually towards me, the wet shower-dri bag covering the cast on his arm held out at an angle away from his dry body, while the other arm tried to awkwardly towel off his hair. I reached for his broken arm, quickly removing the bag and hanging it over a coat hanger to air out before I took the towel from him and sat him down so I could dry his hair properly.

It had grown quite long over the summer, but he had been complaining about it being too unruly and had spoken of getting it cut just before the attack... needless to say, that hadn't happened, and the wild dark curls now puffed out and away from his head like a small afro. It looked surprisingly good on him actually; I never thought I would like the scruffy look on Blaine, but it really suited his face.

I worked through his curls with the towel, drying his hair carefully so as not to let it tangle. With the wide tooth comb from my dresser I began to neaten it out, working slowly and loving the feel of his silky soft damp hair against my fingers. When I was done I scrunched the curls up a little in my palms, breaking them free of the conformity of the comb so that they would dry naturally in little ringlets.

From the top drawer I removed the bottle of vitamin E capsules, flipping the lid and shaking a couple out into my palm. Blaine reached across the desk to remove a pin from my note board, handing it to me so that I could split the capsule open. I just drew a small slit down the front of the plastic, careful not to lose any of the oil. Blaine sat up straighter, his chin raised so that I could start on the still raw looking pink line that marked his lower face.

I tried to focus on rubbing the small circles into his skin, but I was only too aware of his eyes locked on my face. My lips twitched into a small smile as a familiar warmth spread through me from the heat of his gaze, but I refused to be drawn in. I dipped my fingers into the oil again and gave one last gentle swipe over his chin before I motioned with my head for him to stand up.

"Switch," I said simply, and he stood, holding the chair out a little more from the desk for me to sit in, then moved back in closer to stand between my slightly parted knees.

I started on his back, gently tracing an oily finger across that one awful mark beneath his shoulder blade. Surprisingly, the mark here already looked so much better than I would have expected. We'd only been using the oil a few days, but it seemed to me that it had already made a difference.

With a gentle hand guiding his hip, I turned him around. I was suddenly aware that my mouth had gone dry, and I froze for a moment just to take in the beautiful sight before me.

Blaine's breath hitched, and I glanced up at him, only to catch his melted honey eyes boring back into mine with an intensity and passion that made me shiver. His hand came from his side to rest lightly on my shoulder.

"The way you look at me, Kurt. You make me forget about the scars."

My chest tightened at his words, and I let my oily hand fall to rest in the middle of his chest, just to touch.

"Blaine, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

I leaned forward, slowly, and brushed a kiss across his sternum, loving the feel of his warm, vanilla-scented skin against my lips. I felt him exhale a shuddering breath as his hand on my shoulder started to stroke and caress, holding me to him, and I gave in to it for a moment and just rested my cheek against his skin, wrapping both my arms up and around his body.

I soon came to my senses though … nothing could happen between us. It was all too soon. Blaine was still far too fragile for me to think that now was the right time in our relationship to move forward, intimately, no matter how tempting it was, or how right it felt in the moment. With a short cough, I pulled away and unwrapped my arms from him, dipped my fingers into the oil again and brought them to the scars on his abdomen, continuing my application of the oil. Blaine sighed a little, but when I glanced up at him to check on him, he smiled warmly back down at me, so I knew we were okay.

-.-.-.-

Blaine lay in a curled, almost foetal position in front of me. He wasn't asleep, I could tell. His heart was thumping loudly against his ribcage; I could feel it because I was pressed right up against his back with my arms folded loosely around him. He took one of my hands in his, fitting our fingers together.

"Kurt?"

His voice quavered a little, and I knew straight away that whatever it was he wanted to ask me about made him nervous.

"Yes love?"

He hesitated a little, and when he spoke again his voice held a tentative tone, like he almost didn't want to know the answer.

"Do you ever think about the future?"

I smiled against his back, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder blade.

"Yeah, all the time."

He didn't respond, and after a few moments I decided to elaborate.

"I see you and me in New York. We are living together in some dingy, crappy apartment. Working our asses off to get to where we want to be in our careers, but we're happy coz we have each other."

I heard him chuckle low in his throat, and he raised my hand to his lips to kiss my fingertips.

"I picture our wedding, how beautiful it's going to be, how  _perfect_ **you** are going to be on that day, how amazing our lives are going to be together. Then, of course, that drifts into dreams of our little family; us with our beautiful babies. We're going to have twins, I've decided," I say with a smirk, and Blaine grins up at me... like you can plan these things. "A boy and a girl, just like Neil Patrick Harris and David Burtka had. I picture our son to be the spitting image of you, and our daughter as a dainty miniature of my mom... and we name her Lucy Elizabeth."

He nodded softly. "That's perfect, Kurt. I love Lucy."

I grinned, waiting for him to get the reference. I wasn't disappointed. He groaned aloud once he realised what he had said, turning in my arms to smirk up at me.

"Is that where you got the name Lucy from? 'I love Lucy'?"

I winked at him, and his laughter filled the room.

"Well!" I said mock-defensively, "You and I are like a modern day Lucy and Ricky. I thought it fit quite nicely."

He grinned. "And what are we going to name our son?"

I stroked my hand softly across his cheek, meeting his eyes with a lazy grin on my face. "I thought I should let you have at least  _some_ input. What do you like?"

Blaine's face got serious for a minute, and he wouldn't meet my eyes. "I've always loved the name Tyrone." he said softly.

I nodded, knowing he could feel the motion even though he wasn't looking at me. "I like that," I said simply, and his lips turned up in a smile.

"I picture the both of us being home with them a lot, especially when they're little. Of course we're going to be filthy rich by then, so we won't need to go out to work anyway."

Blaine grinned at that, finally meeting my eyes.

"You've put a lot of thought into this, haven't you?"

I met his eyes, all traces of joking aside as I nodded at him sincerely. My breath caught in my throat at the sparkle I could see in his eyes.

"Yes, I have. I can't even imagine a future without you. I know it's a long way off, all this marriage and kids stuff, but eventually, when we are both ready and older and  _way_  more mature than we are now, and we're done travelling and achieving our career dreams and we're ready to have more than just each other, then yeah, I want to have all of that with you."

I felt Blaine's chest hitch a little. I smiled again, playing with a loose curl near his ear.

"I'm glad I didn't scare you with that little admission, Blaine. Most seventeen year old guys would have an aneurism at the mention of marriage and children... but still, here you lie, dapper and as beautiful as ever, discussing baby names with me." I couldn't help but give him a little wink at the end, and he laughed once, low and deep, and his arms tightened around me.

"Yeah, but I'm not most seventeen year old guys. Planning a future with you is a lot less scary than planning one without you... "

He trailed off, and I caught a glimpse of his darkened eyes before he let them slip closed and snuggled in even closer to me. I rested my head on his bicep, cuddling into his side with an arm thrown possessively over his waist, and we both drifted off to sleep.

-.-.-.-

I was awoken the next morning by the buzzing of my phone, and thinking it was my alarm, I rolled over to punch it off before I realised what it really was. Startling awake, confused and disoriented, it took me a moment to get my bearings before I snatched my phone off the bedside locker and pressed a button. It was only a text message. From Aaron Anderson.

With a sidelong glance at Blaine's still sleeping form, I pressed 'view' and opened it, a sinking feeling of dread seeping into my heart as the words sank in.

[Hi Kurt. Mom and I want to

come over today to see Blaine.

Can you text me your address

please? Is after noon okay?]

I felt a chill as I read and reread the words, and for a moment I just wanted to tell him no. I didn't even want to mention it to Blaine. Blaine had been so hurt by his parents; would this now be a good thing for him, or would it make him worse again? I would have to check with him, see what he wanted to do ... but even as that thought went through my mind, I was certain I already knew what his decision would be. Despite their intolerance of his sexuality and their subsequent rejection of him, Blaine still loved his parents. He would never turn his mother away.

With shaking hands and a chill in my heart, I texted my address back to Aaron and told him we would see them at 2pm.

Then I turned to Blaine and gently shook him awake.

-.-.-.-.-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Do me a favour please guys? If this chapter made you smile at all, even a little bit, then please hit that review button and tell me why. I thrive on feedback, and I would really love to hear what you all think about this story, and where you think I'm going with it, or where you'd like to see me go with it. 
> 
> BRL


	12. Chapter 12

Blaine had been jittery all day. He'd spent most of the morning up in my room silently helping my dad fix my bathroom door while I laid out both of our outfits for this meeting with his mother. He'd come downstairs for lunch with the family: sandwiches in front of a football game on the TV in the living room. He jolted and started every time Finn or my dad cheered or booed at the players with too much exuberance.

It was Labor Day, so my dad had the day off work, but he said he would have taken the day off anyway so that he could be here for Blaine, for which I was so grateful. Blaine's parents had always intimidated me a little, and with Blaine still so fragile, I was happy to accept any support that I could get. He had promised me that he was going to be okay with seeing his mom, but I could see beyond his words, and I knew he was terrified even though he was doing a pretty good job at hiding it.

But now that 2pm was merely minutes away, he was positively vibrating with anxiety. I'd asked him several times if he wanted me to text Aaron to cancel, if this was going to be too much for him, but he'd assured me he was fine and that he wasn't scared of seeing his mom, just nervous.

That was an understatement, but I had just nodded supportively.

My dad, on the other hand, hadn't taken the news of our impending visitors so well. He was furious that this woman had only just now decided to finally check up on her son, and he had been fuming about it all morning. After much persuasion on my part, he had finally agreed to let her into his house, but only on the condition that he got to speak with her first before Blaine even saw her. I didn't really have a choice but to agree, though I dreaded to think what he would say to her. I completely understood his need to be protective, but I just hoped with all of my heart that his behaviour didn't drive this woman away before Blaine had a chance to speak with her. He may have been nervous, but I could tell how happy he was for the chance to see his mother again and the possibility that she was ready to accept him for who he was.

After all, that was all anyone really wanted, wasn't it?

The doorbell chimed at two o'clock on the dot, and Blaine jumped violently at the sound. His eyes darted around the room and his body trembled, and I could tell he was extremely close to letting his flight reflex kick in... but he didn't. He just clung to my hand with an almost vicious intensity. His other hand had woven tightly into his curls and he was pulling forcefully on his hair, strong enough to make his head tilt to the side. This was new, and I didn't like it. I reached up to pry his fingers away, linking his fingers with my own so that I held both of his hands. His eyes were wide, clearly afraid. I ignored Finn, who was sitting in an armchair on the other side of the room, and leaned in to kiss him firmly with lingering sweet, soft kisses that were intended to calm him down but only seemed to get him more worked up. Blaine pulled his hands free of my grip to slide them around my waist, and he broke the kiss to rest his forehead against the crook of my neck.

We were in the living room - out of sight of the dining room but still close enough that I would be able to eavesdrop if I concentrated. Disney's Aladdin was playing on the plasma in the corner, but none of us were really paying any attention to it. Finn had tried to get us to watch the game with him, but I insisted upon Disney; it was the most effective way I knew to keep Blaine calm, and I knew that I would need to pull out all the stops today.

I heard Mrs Andersons voice – "Please, call me Vicki" – before he ushered her into the kitchen, closing the door behind him. Before the door shut, I heard him say in a gentle voice, "They're just through there, Aaron, please make yourself at home."

Aaron's polite "Thank you Mr Hummel" was all the warning we got before a dark, curly head popped around the door, and the younger boy's eyes quickly scanned the room before they locked on his brother.

"Hey Aaron," I said brightly, smiling at the younger boy as he stepped cautiously into the room and approached the sofa where Blaine and I sat together. Aaron smiled back. I noticed the way his eyes narrowed at the way Blaine and I were embracing, but he didn't say anything. He looked a little uncomfortable with our closeness, but there was no outward, blatant revulsion like there had been the first time we met, so I took that as a good sign. Obviously the boy was learning to accept the whole 'gay' thing. I was impressed; it hadn't taken nearly as long as I would have expected it to.

Blaine held his gaze, his eyes dark and nervous, but not in an unfriendly way... just wary. I knew that Blaine adored his little brother, but the last time Blaine had seen him had been just days after the attack, and Aaron's behaviour hadn't exactly been compassionate. I had filled Blaine in just this morning on all the details of my conversation with Aaron that night in my car, and he thanked me for accepting Aaron's apology, but I think he still didn't quite trust his brother's motives for wanting to keep in touch.

I really wanted to give Blaine and Aaron some privacy, but Blaine wouldn't let go of my arm. He clung to me so tightly I knew I was going to have bruises on my wrist, but I couldn't bring myself to care about that – his body was humming like a tuning fork, and I was more worried about his anxiety levels than a couple of little bruises, so I stayed.

I had been fairly sure that he wouldn't speak to Aaron anyway, but with Finn in the room there was no way to test to see if it was because he didn't want to speak to his own brother, or if he did, but just not in front of mine. I tried to chat with Aaron, but he seemed hurt and confused that Blaine still wouldn't answer his simple questions, so things got pretty awkward very quickly. Within minutes, the four of us were just watching the movie and trying to ignore the gigantic elephant in the room.

If my father had sent Aaron in to us as a deliberate attempt to discourage me from listening in on his chat with Vicki at the kitchen door, then he succeeded. I couldn't hear a thing from here over the noise of the TV, or through the closed door. I was itching to know what this woman had to say for herself about why and how she could justify turning her back on her son. I had a feeling that my father wouldn't be completely forthcoming with relating her comments back to me for fear of hurting me, but I didn't care what she said about us. I just wanted to know what her intentions were towards Blaine.

Before I knew it, my father appeared in the doorway and requested our company in the dining room. He crossed to Blaine, gingerly placing a gentle hand on my boyfriend's elbow as he stared kindly down at him. Blaine didn't flinch at his touch, but I wondered if that was maybe because he was too nervous to have registered it.

"Blaine, we're right here for you, okay? This is all going to go at your pace, son. If it gets too much for you, you just let us know. We've got your back."

I eyed him sceptically. "Did she say why she's here?"

My dad shrugged non committally. "She's just a worried mom, Kurt, who's concerned about her son's welfare. She is here seeking his forgiveness for her behaviour and attitude. I've warned her to keep calm, but if at any point he gets too overwhelmed, just take him out of the room, okay? I've prepared her for that possibility.

I nodded in response, linking my fingers through Blaine's as I let him drag me towards the kitchen. If my dad was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, then I would too, if for no other reason than it was what Blaine wanted. I still didn't trust her, though.

I really should have just gone with my instincts.

-.-.-.-

Five minutes later I was standing directly behind Blaine with my arms crossed over my chest, staring warily at the short, dark-haired woman who sat at my father's table, sipping our coffee and looking down her nose at us. Her back was straight, her lips were pursed, and her sharp gaze flickered between her two sons and my father with an occasional glance up at me whenever I touched her son; she seemed to find a stroke to his cheek with my thumb, or even a simple, comforting touch of my hand to his shoulder most irritating. The more that I noticed it bothering her, the more often I did it.

When we had first entered the room hand in hand, she had rushed to Blaine and folded him into her slender arms with tears in her eyes. Her voice pleaded with him to forgive her. He only nodded, but still, it was an answer, and she seemed thrilled with the response she had received. She quickly resumed her seat opposite my father with Blaine on the third side of the rectangular table and Aaron on the fourth. She continued to mostly address my father, which was fine as he was the one asking the questions, but I couldn't help feeling like she just would have disregarded my comments if I had given them anyway.

"My husband and I have discussed this all at some length with our pastor over the past few months since Blaine left home, and with God's help we have come to accept that our son truly does have romantic feelings towards boys. For such a long time, Alan and I were convinced that being gay was a choice that Blaine had made, but we realise now that we were mistaken. We understand now that this isn't something that he has control over. We admit we were wrong, and we are sorry."

Surprisingly, Blaine didn't look shocked. I had expected more of a reaction from him. I smiled down at him, sliding my hand lovingly down his chest to rest above his heart, and he responded by slipping one hand up his body to enclose my own hand which still rested possessively on his shoulder. Her words were encouraging; they gave me hope that Blaine would one day be fully accepted by both of his parents for who and what he was, which I knew was all he had ever really wanted from them. I was happy for him. Happy for  _us._

But Blaine didn't share my enthusiasm at all. He just stared at his mother with that same worried, hurt look on his face, and I couldn't understand why. That is, until she started talking again.

"Blaine, honey. Your father and I want you to come home. We both love you so much, and turning our backs on you the way we did was the wrong thing to do. We can both see that now."

She smiled kindly at him as she slowly got up from her chair, walking around the table to squat beside her eldest son and taking his hand gently in her own. Blaine didn't flinch, but his own grip on my fingers tightened like a vice.

"You should be at home with us, with your family. It should be us taking care of you, not these strangers. They've been wonderfully generous to you Blaine, but you can't impose on them any longer. Come home with us today and we will look after you. Then when you are well again, our pastor knows of a lovely young woman, a counsellor, who can help you fix your little problem. You don't have to live with this affliction any more, sweetie. We can fix you."

I stared at the woman in disbelief, too shocked to form words. Blaine's 'little problem'? I could only assume she meant his being gay. A glance up at my father's angry red face told me he shared my sentiment, but thankfully not my temporary muteness.

"You think you can 'fix' him? Turn him straight with just some counselling?" Burt asked in a strangled, broken voice. He took a few steps towards us, laying a protective hand firmly on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine didn't react to the contact, to my surprise, but he did let go of his mother's hand. She stood up and took a step back, taking a defensive stance.

"Well," she said, flustered, twirling her wedding ring. "Not just counselling. Pastor Paul said it might take some time, but there are some wonderful advances in the technologies they use now, and it's meant to be very effective. We just want our son to be able to live a normal life, Mr. Hummel. He's a wonderful boy, and we think he deserves to live a full, happy life," she finished proudly.

I wanted so badly to be furious at that statement, but the way she said it with such hope and belief, I could see that she truly believed that this was going to be beneficial for Blaine. She really wanted to help him. To fix his 'little problem' and make him whole again: normal, accepted...  _straight._ In her own misguided, bigoted way, she really did just want the best for her son. I realised in that moment that I felt pity for her.

I turned my bewildered stare upon my father, only to see him frozen to his spot, temporarily lost for words as he stared at the tiny woman next to him. She narrowed an eyebrow at his rudely gaping mouth, apparently recognising the look on his face for what it was.

Pure horrified disbelief.

"Anyway, this has nothing to do with you, Mr. Hummel. As I said before, we are very grateful for the care and compassion you have shown our son since that awful incident, but it doesn't give you the right to interfere in our family's affairs. Blaine should be with his family. He should be with people who share the same moral values and standards as he does."

My father drew himself up to his full height, glaring down at the tiny, poisonous woman sitting calmly before him.

"Your son was nearly  _murdered_ , Mrs. Anderson. He was beaten up by a group of people who share the same opinions as you do about gay people... that there is something wrong with it. What the hell does it matter who he loves?"

The small woman's smile slipped a little, and she leaned over the table as she glared back at my father.

"It's disgusting and unnatural, and we know that with the right treatment Blaine's mind can be taught the difference between right and wrong. I wouldn't expect you to understand, Mr. Hummel. It's quite clear to me that you are only interested in being a friend to your son instead of a father, which is why you enable this relationship he has with Blaine. Encouraging them to be together is only hurting them both further, and we can't allow you to subject our son to these beliefs any more. You're only making this harder on him. You are no better than someone who hands out endless supplies of clean needles to drug users; you are not helping them, you're just encouraging them to continue with this destructive behaviour."

She pulled up her chair, bringing it around the corner of the table so that she was right in front of Blaine and sat quickly, leaning in to meet his eyes. Her voice was soft again, gentle and pleading, and if it wasn't for the bigoted hate speech that she was giving, you could be forgiven for thinking that she was sharing a tender moment with her son. Blaine sat stock still, a defeated look upon his beautiful face. He seemed somewhat transfixed on his mother's face, almost hypnotised. I could tell that he just wanted so badly to be everything she wanted him to be – to make her proud of him.

"Blainey, honey, it's gonna be okay. We know that you didn't choose to be like this. But now, by staying here and continuing with this nonsense, you are choosing to stay this way. As long as you are like this, you're going to be a target for more people out there who don't like  _your kind of people._ I don't understand why you would want that? Let us help you."

"Blaine." My father cut in loudly, causing Blaine and Vicki both to jump. "You are perfect just the way you are, son. You don't need to change anything about yourself just to keep certain people around you happy. If they can't love you for who you are, they don't deserve to have you in their lives."

I knew he was trying to help, but his voice was so loud and forceful that I think hearing what he had just said would have caused Blaine more harm than good. Vicki barely let his last word finish echoing off the tiles before she leaned in closer, a concerned and yet somehow still hateful sneer on her face.

"You brought this attack upon yourself, Blaine, just like you did the first time you were beaten up because you went to the dance with that other boy. Your actions have consequences, son. It's about time you learned that."

I had heard enough.

"Stop it, both of you. You're scaring him."

My father had raised me to be respectful and polite to adults, especially women, and that violence never solved anything, but in that moment, in our kitchen, I had never felt more like punching somebody in the face than I did Blaine's mother. I was shaking with rage and disbelief, fighting to keep my trembling hands by my sides. Needing an anchor, I gave a gentle tug on Blaine's shoulders and pulled him back against me so I could wrap my arms around him. The touch seemed to be all he needed, however, to break the control his mother's voice had over him, and he turned quickly in his seat, burying his face into my chest and cinching his arms tightly around me.

I held him close for a moment, just letting him ground me and soaking in the strength that I could always draw from his touch, his love. I felt a sob tremble through him and I shushed him automatically, rocking him gently in my arms.

Then I glanced up. I'm so glad he had his back to her in that moment; the look of revulsion on her face would have broken him.

"How dare you judge him? What gives you the right to try and tell Blaine that the way he loves is wrong? At least he can love, with his whole heart and soul, and he is amazing at it. You? You only hate! You are disgusted by something that is so pure and so  _right_ , and I truly pity you. Blaine has found a family that adores every single part of him, Mrs. Anderson, and it leaves your family looking pale, thin and sickly in comparison. You've pushed away the most incredible person that I have ever met. You belittled and invalidated his feelings, and now you come crawling back here to apologise for not realising any sooner that you might be able to brainwash the 'gay' out of him? You are quite a piece of work. Seriously, from one bitch to another, top marks."

She looked horrified. "You can't spea..."

I cut her off with a sneer.

"Get out of our house, and don't you  _ever_ show your horrible face around here again."

She stood up slowly, facing off against me over Blaine's head. Blaine kept his face buried against my chest, but I could just tell from the slight movements - the tremble of his shoulders, the hitch of his breath - that he was crying.

"I will not leave this house without my son," she said simply, her tone low and menacing.

"Your son is emancipated from you. You can't make him go anywhere, so unless he chooses to go with you back to your religious brainwashing cult, he's staying right here with us where he is loved for who he is and safe and protected from maniacs like you."

She glared at me again, and I found it hard to believe that just ten minutes ago I had believed that this woman had changed. More fool me, I guess.

"Let me tell you something about your son, Mrs. Anderson. He is the sweetest, gentlest, most compassionate man that I have ever met in my life. He is honest and selfless and pure, and I will never allow you to take that from him."

She stood up abruptly and picked up her handbag, throwing it over her shoulder as she stormed out of the kitchen. I had the sudden urge to spit something out at her, something like 'By the way, your son's lips feel amazing around my cock,' or something like that, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I wouldn't lower myself, or Blaine's virtue, to that level, even if it would have given me an extraordinary sense of satisfaction to leave her with that mental image in her stupid head. Besides, I wouldn't actually know because we had never actually done that, but of course  _she_ didn't know that.

I took Blaine by his hands and forced him forward, making him stand up so he could walk with me. His body was trembling, his eyes unfocussed and staring blankly off into the distance. I was furious at myself for having allowed this to happen. I should have known that neither of Blaine's parents would be able to pull their narrow-minded heads out of their bibles, or their asses, long enough to actually be able to accept their son even after nearly losing him in a brutal attack. I put both my arms around his waist to help him up the stairs, shrugging off Finn's offer of help even though I was struggling a little under Blaine's weight. I didn't want anyone else to touch him right now; he was too fragile.

My dad's voice rang out as we reached the top landing, continuing his argument with Blaine's mother, but I couldn't be bothered trying to make out his words. Her words in reply, however, were so loud that I couldn't not hear them.

"But you must know that you are not doing these boys any favours by encouraging them to explore these urges they are having, Mr. Hummel. How can you be comfortable with them sodomising each other under your very roof? The bible says..."

And that's all I heard before I shut the bedroom door with a loud bang behind us.

I shuffled Blaine over to the bed. He wasn't crying, but I think, if anything, that was the thing that was bothering me the most. Why  _wasn't_  he crying?

He seemed almost catatonic as I sat him down on the side of the bed and removed his shoes, but once I had climbed on to the bed with him and pulled him into my arms, the sobbing started. I will admit I was a little relieved. His crying I could handle.

"This isn't fair, Kurt. I didn't do anything wrong."

I shushed him, stroking his hair and rocking him back and forth in my arms. "Of course you didn't. You are amazing, Blaine. There will always be people in the world that just can't see past how _wrong_ they think we are, no matter how much we do right. We just have to ignore them, baby. Your parents are hateful bullies..."

I was cut off then by a knock at the door, and I turned on the bed just in time to see it being pushed open. A small, curly head poked tentatively through the gap.

"Can I come in?" asked Aaron in a small voice.

I looked at Blaine, but he had gone silent again. Hoping against hope that this wouldn't backfire on me too, I just nodded. He came in and, after a moment's hesitation, planted his butt gingerly on the bottom corner of my mattress.

"Is Blaine okay?"

I glanced at my boyfriend's face, but he gave away nothing in response. I nodded back at Aaron.

"Yeah, he's going to be fine. I'll make sure of it." I smiled at the kid, and he smiled back. I gestured with my head in the direction of the front door. "Is she gone?"

Now it was his turn to nod. "Yeah, it was kind of funny actually. Your dad is cool. He told her he'd drop me home later after he's done his best to turn me gay, too. You should have seen her face."

I burst out laughing. Even Blaine cracked a smile at that. I reached out a hand to pat Aaron comfortingly on the shoulder. He grinned at me, but it quickly faded into a serious, almost admiring gaze.

"Thank you, Kurt. No one has ever stood up to her like that before... well, not since Blaine told them he was with you and they kicked him out. Thank you for defending my brother like that. You're a good guy. I'm really happy that Blaine has people like you on his side."

I smiled at him. "Thanks Aaron... and hey, if you ever need us, we're here for you too, okay?"

He looked back and forth between Blaine's face and mine before he nodded in agreement.

"So... what's fun to do around here? Do you guys have a Playstation?"

Blaine grinned and rolled his eyes, and I took that to mean, "Wow, that didn't take long."

I laughed softly. "Finn has an Xbox 360; I'm sure he'd love someone new to flog. Why don't you go find him, and we'll be down soon, okay?"

Aaron took off excitedly out the door, leaving it open behind him. I didn't mind. The intense air was gone, and Blaine actually seemed calm and focused again, so that was all I cared about.

"I love that you and my brother are friends, Kurt. After the way your first meeting went that day at the hospital, I honestly never thought it would be possible. But watching you two just now, it means so much to me that you two have worked out a way to be friends."

I stroked his cheek, meeting his eyes intently as I spoke. "He's a great kid, Blaine... he had just been raised to believe in the wrong thing. Luckily he's smart enough to figure it out for himself."

I gazed up and down, giving him a quick once over. No trembling, no hair pulling, no catatonic stares.

"You sure you're okay?"

He just nodded, so I grabbed his hand and pulled him off the bed again.

"Okay then, let's go downstairs and show these boys how Grand Tourismo is meant to be played, hey?"

Blaine let me lead him back down to the living room to join Aaron and Finn, and several hours later, he joined us all at the dining table for a family dinner with his little brother. Both of the Anderson boys looked pretty happy about that. Blaine didn't speak, but he wasn't completely stoic either; he was smiling and he had even laughed once during the dinner table banter.

But I couldn't help but start to worry again later on after my dad had taken Aaron home. Blaine and I had retreated upstairs so that I could get my belongings in order and plan my outfit for my first day back at school the next day.

I just wanted so badly to reassure him that it would all work out okay, but it was hard to convince him of that when I didn't believe it myself. Blaine didn't like it when I left him alone, but I honestly could not think of a solution to our problem. I had to go back to school, and Blaine just simply wasn't ready for that yet.

I guess we would just have to see how things went tomorrow and just hope for the best.

**-.-.-.-**


	13. Chapter 13

I woke early the next morning to the feel of Blaine's warm breaths on my bare chest. His arm was wrapped tightly around my waist, and one leg was looped between mine, which meant this his thigh was pressed against... oh god. Yep, I was definitely awake.

It took a while, but I managed to gently disentangle myself from him without waking him up, but he didn't make it easy on me. Even in sleep he clung to me relentlessly, like I was his lifeline. When I tried to lift his arm off me he groaned in protest and just cuddled into me tighter. His soft moans and slight movements were only making it, well,  _me_  harder, so by the time I was free of his limbs I had no choice but to head straight to the shower to take care of my not-so-little problem.

I stroked myself slowly, but when the image of Blaine on his knees in front of me, taking me into his mouth, popped into my head I became frantic, and it was all over pretty quickly. That had been the common theme for me recently; just the very idea of having Blaine take me into his mouth was enough to do things to my mind and my body that I had never even considered possible before. It was all a little overwhelming actually, just how far a little bit of imagination could take me.

I'd never really been one for indulging in this kind of self pleasure all that often, but with Blaine in my bed, my room, my life and my arms every minute of the day now, it was fast becoming a necessity. I didn't want him to know how often I had to, uhh, relieve the pressure, because I didn't want him to think I was pressuring him. That wasn't even an issue. I  _knew_ unequivocally that he wasn't ready, and that was fine, but it didn't stop my body from reacting to him, and those reactions were getting harder and harder to hide.

After my shower I moisturised and put on my robe, but in lieu of getting dressed I snuck downstairs to the kitchen, knowing my father would already be down there, and I needed some quiet one on one time with him before the rest of the house awoke.

He was standing at the counter, paper in one hand and toast in the other. He froze guiltily when he saw me, and I scowled at the inch thick smear of peanut butter that he had spread on it. He took one large, quick bite before I snatched it out his hands and threw it in the bin. With an exasperated sigh, he then picked up his coffee to settle back and watch me make him some oatmeal.

He chuckled softly at me as I measured out the skim milk.

"You know, I much prefer it when you sleep in, Kurt." He said with a mock scowl, and I glared at him in response.

"Well excuse me for not wanting you to die." I bit back, much more viciously than I had intended.

His eyes narrowed. "Hey kid, I was joking."

I dropped my head. "I know, Dad. Sorry."

He crossed to the table, pulling out a chair and motioning me into it. I sighed, knowing what was coming, but I sank into it nonetheless. As much as I pretended to dread them, I did love these talks that I had with my dad. I knew he didn't always understand where I was coming from, but he tried his best and was always so open minded and accepting of what I said and felt that there was nothing really to be scared of at all.

"What's with the mood?"

I bit my lip, trying to think of how to respond, when he continued.

"Is it because you have to leave Blaine alone today?"

I thought about it for a moment before I nodded sadly at him in response. Yeah, that's exactly what it was. He sighed and sank into the chair beside me.

"This will be good for him, Kurt. He's gotten so dependent on you. He needs to learn to be able to function for himself again."

I opened my mouth to protest but he held up a hand, stopping me before I could start.

"I know he has good reason, Kurt. You don't need to defend him to me. I'm just saying, it's great that he knows he can trust you, but he needs to learn that he can trust other people again too. Carole will stay home with him today, so he won't be alone. She had an idea that maybe she could home school Blaine for his senior year, at least to start with anyway, until he's ready to go back to school. If she was to do it through the school year, then he could even keep up with the same syllabus that you are on so he doesn't fall behind. Then, when he's ready, he could go to McKinley with you."

Actually, that sounded like a wonderful idea. I don't know why we hadn't thought of it ourselves. I smiled at my dad, nodding my head in agreement, but I was quickly drawn back to reality by the realisation that Carole worked four days a week.

"Wait... what about her job? How would she home school him if she's at work all day?"

My dad reached out for my hand and squeezed my fingers gently. "This is something she wants to do, buddy. Not just for Blaine, but for you too. For our family. She's going to switch with Donna and do the night shift three nights a week instead. We talked about it, and we've decided that it's the best decision for our family right now."

I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. I didn't want Carole to have to change her work schedule for us. I knew how much she loved working with the residents at the Aged Care facility, and if she switched to nights she wouldn't get to do the things she loved to do with them like the games and the ballroom dancing classes and the chats over tea because her clients would all be asleep. I knew that if it had been me that she was giving this up for, I would have protested violently, but I just couldn't. Because this wasn't for me. It was for Blaine, and who was I to deny him the chance for someone as wonderful as Carole to spend her days with him, teaching him, gaining his trust, and helping him recover? It was honestly the most wonderful solution to our problem that I could have imagined, so how could I not just graciously accept?

My dad must have been watching me turn all this over in my head, because it wasn't until I looked back up to meet his eyes that he continued.

"Blaine really can't be left alone right now. We know he won't talk to anyone but you, but that doesn't mean that he can't learn to trust us as well. It will take time and patience, we know that, but if there is one person who can break through to him, it'll be Carole."

I nodded weakly at that, wholeheartedly agreeing. It warmed my heart to see another instance of how absolutely amazing my family was and to know how lucky I was to have been given my dad and Carole for parents. It pained me to imagine how confused Blaine must have been growing up with people like Vicki and Alan to guide him. I honestly didn't know if I would have gotten through the last two years of my life if it weren't for my dad.

His soft voice broke me out of my daydream as he continued, and it took me a moment to remember where our conversation was up to.

"But as for today, we'll just play it by ear, okay? Neither of us expects today to go smoothly, but we have to start somewhere, so if Blaine does freak out then maybe you can come home early. I'll write a note for Principal Figgins excusing you from your afternoon classes on the condition that your friends take notes for you in all the classes you miss, okay? I won't have you falling behind, Kurt, but I do understand how important you are to Blaine right now, so I'm willing to make some compromises."

I grinned at him. "You know you're the best dad in the world, yeah?"

He winked. "Yeah? Well shouldn't the best dad in the world be allowed a little peanut butter every now and then?"

I narrowed my eyes at him but kept the smile on my lips. "A  _little_ , yeah, on occasion. But Dad, when it's thicker than the toast you've spread it on, it's more than just ' _a little.'_ " He had the decency to smirk guiltily at that. "Please Dad, you've got to take care of yourself." My voice lowered a little, and I got serious for just a moment. "I can't lose you."

His gaze softened, and the laughter left his eyes as he looked back at me. "Yeah kiddo, I know. But you can ease up a little bit, okay? I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

-.-.-

God, it felt good to be back at school.

Senior year. I was officially top of the heap. Well, by grade standards anyway – and by the time I'd finished my third period class, I was already certain that things were going to be better than last year.

For starters, Karofsky was gone. Finn had heard from Shane who was told by Azimio during gym class in second period that Dave had transferred to a new school for his senior year, and Finn had come to find me between classes to let me know the good news. It seemed that the loss of his bully buddy had taken some of the puff out of Azimio, too; he had passed me in the halls between first and second period without incident. Not even a glare. Things were looking up.

Then there was Mr. Schue. He was revving us up for Nationals already, and for a change, he'd actually come up with a class assignment for the week that didn't feel like it had been dreamed up at the last minute. I had hope that this would last for the rest of the year, but if there was one thing that I knew with absolute certainty about McKinley High, it was that inconsistency was key, and I was fairly certain that that wasn't about to change now.

Even putting all of the other stuff aside, it was just great to see all my friends again. I hadn't realised how much I had missed them or even how little I had seen of them since Blaine's attack. It felt great to laugh with Mercedes and Tina again over lunch and to be able to practice scales again with Rachel during our free period together in the choir room, but I couldn't help but feel like something very important was missing.

And that feeling only got stronger whenever I thought of Blaine.

It felt so unfair to me that I should be able to enjoy myself with my friends while he sat at home, anxious and afraid without me. My head was fighting my heart – I wanted so badly to call him to check on him, but I knew that if I did, the sound of my voice would set him off. I had been texting Blaine all morning, but he had stopped responding about half an hour ago, and I was starting to get worried, so I sent a quick text to Carole's phone instead, but I still didn't get a reply. I tried not to panic about that, though. I knew Carole had a bad habit of leaving her cell phone lying in odd places around the house such as a washing basket or on the hand basin in the bathroom, so it was very possible that she just hadn't heard it. But what if it was something more sinister? What if Blaine had gotten hurt and was back in hospital and Carole had raced out of the house so fast she had forgotten her phone?

I knew damn well that I was just being paranoid, but now that the seed of doubt had been planted I couldn't let it go. I dialled Blaine's number and let it ring until it rang out.

Twice.

Okay, now I was really worried.

Rachel had been watching me intently, and had already commented on how distracted I was a couple of times since we'd started our vocal training only twenty minutes earlier. I had told her briefly during first period Calc this morning about Blaine spending the day with Carole, so now, when I tossed my sheet music back into my satchel and ran out the door, she was right behind me, refusing to let me go alone. I hesitated only for a second before I beckoned her forward, and we both ran, side by side, through the halls and out the side doors into the parking lot.

We'd just gotten into my car when my cell vibrated with an incoming text alert. It was from Carole, and I sighed in relief when I saw her message, and slumped down in my chair as my shallow, quick breaths tore through me.

[Sorry for the delay in answering, Kurt. Blaine and I are baking and we're

both all messy and couldn't touch our phones. Blaine's fine, there's no

need for you to come home today. Don't worry about him. Love, Smom.]

I read it through twice, examining the words for stressors or untruths. Cradling my phone to my chest in relief, I slumped back against my seat and let out such a deep sigh that it felt like a sob. God, I couldn't breathe. The relief from that text on top of the pain of the worry in my heart had me trembling. I felt the shudders start in my chest, and a low moan shook my body from the inside out.

I felt Rachel lean over me, pulling me into her arms to comfort me; her soft murmurs gradually penetrated the haze that had clouded my brain.

It was like a floodgate had been opened. The tears poured out of me in streams, wracking my whole body with the intensity of them, and it actually scared me a little because of the force with which they came. All of the tension and the stress and the pain of the past month that had been welling up and building in my chest just came bubbling to the surface all at once. Rachel just held me tightly in her arms and rocked me gently while I gave in to the worst of it and let it consume me.

She made the mistake of asking me to tell her everything, and in my flustered state my brain must have taken her too literally, because before I knew it I was spilling it all. And yeah, I do actually mean  _everything._ Somehow I felt comfortable telling Rachel that one of Blaine's attackers was a Dalton kid, and about the bathroom incident that day I went to the police station, and about his mother's visit yesterday. I told her of Blaine's reticence to speak to anyone but me, and how useless and weak it made me feel that I couldn't just make everything better for him, and how I worried that things would never get better for him. What if this is as good as Blaine is ever going to get? Maybe he'll never be completely normal again - could I handle that?

I don't really even remember most of Rachel's responses to what I was saying or to how upset I was. I mostly only remember how guilty I felt at expressing those views, and then I remember apologising to her for saying what I said about Blaine, and making her swear to never repeat what I had said to anyone, especially not Blaine. I didn't want him to think that I wouldn't love him if he never went back to being his old self again. I assured Rachel that I would love him forever, no matter what, even if he never got better.

It was only when Rachel squeezed my fingers between hers, pulled my attention to her face, and made me concentrate on counting my breaths that I realised that I had just had a panic attack. I followed her instructions and focused on making my breaths deeper and longer, wrapping my forearms around the steering wheel and resting my forehead on my arms with my eyes closed as I slowly counted from one to twenty and back again.

Now that I knew he was safe, my whole overprotective paranoia thing seemed a little obsessive, and I was a little embarrassed that I had allowed Rachel to see me so vulnerable. I was meant to be the strong one, in control, in charge of keeping things sane and ordered. I couldn't afford to show cracks in my armour like this. Still, maybe it wouldn't hurt to have Rachel to talk to if I ever needed her. Blaine had a whole network opening up before him, spreading out around him to help in any way that they could, but apart from my incredibly supportive family, I didn't have an objective ear to listen to me ramble about my worries.

"Kurt, it's okay for you to feel like this. Taking care of Blaine the way you have been for the past month is bound to have some effect on you. The stress you're under right now is enormous, and you can't possibly think that you have to do it all – handle it all – on your own. I'm here for you, Kurt. If you ever want someone to talk to, or anything at all, just let me know, okay?"

I tilted my head to the side and gazed up at her, smiling a little in spite of my tears. We both glanced up when we heard the fifth period bell ring, and Rachel slid her petite hand into mine, squeezing it gently.

"Do you want to go back in?" she asked, but I just shook my head.

"No. I think I've had enough of school for one day. Rachel, will you go somewhere with me?"

She nodded and agreed straight away, neither questioning me about our destination nor hesitating about skipping class.

"Sure Kurt. Where are we going?"

I smiled a small, tight smile. "Westerville."

-.-.-.-

Taking a girl inside Dalton Academy was like playing with something noisy in front of a room full of toddlers. Rachel herself was very taken with the beauty of the old building, and in turn, the building's residents were all rather taken with Rachel. Before we even got to the Warblers' choir room where I had arranged to meet Wes, we'd been stopped twice by guys wanting to give her their numbers. Even the small handful of Warblers waiting for us seemed rather pleasantly distracted by Rachel, and I couldn't help but grin at the look of shock on her face as she was overenthusiastically dragged over to the piano by Nick and Trent so that they could 'enlist her help' with a duet they were working on for Sectionals.

I loved how these guys were confident enough in themselves and their talent that it didn't bother them in the slightest to play host to two of the members of an opposing team. The first time I had ever set foot in Dalton was to spy on them, and they had welcomed me with open arms. Now, almost a year later, here they were comfortably chatting with Rachel about their song selection for a competition in which we would be competing against them in just two month's time.

It just had to be said: nobody anywhere, ever, was cooler than the Warblers.

David was seated on one of the plush leather sofas flicking through a guitar chords book when Wes motioned for me to join them and promptly settled himself comfortably in David's lap. David's arms automatically wrapped around his boyfriend, but he just switched the book to his other hand and kept reading.

My lips twitched at the corners. God, this still amazed me. These two guys, so clearly in love, openly displayed their affection for each other in a room full of teenage boys and didn't seem to have a care in the world. I mean, I know Dalton had been like this for Blaine and I as well but, especially after what had happened to Blaine, it was just nice to be reminded that the world could be like this. It was certainly a sweet thing to behold.

We just chatted idly for a while. The guys all wanted to know how Blaine was doing, and I told them as much as I could without revealing anything too private. I in turn asked Wes and David about their relationship and how their friends had reacted to them coming out. They both laughed at that. Wes instantly turned his face to David's for a sweet kiss before his boyfriend pulled away to return to his book, but he told me the Warblers all seemed to have seen it coming, despite the fact that both guys had previously had girlfriends.

David, however, seemed to sense that there was more to my question than just friendly chatter, and after a moment he lay his book to the side, leaning in closer to Wes as he turned his attention back to us. His arms tightened around his boyfriend's waist, holding him closer.

"Kurt, you know about Dalton's policies. We're safe here. Neither one of us has told our families about our relationship yet, or even anyone else outside of Dalton, except for you and Blaine of course. We have nothing to worry about here inside this school."

I opened my mouth to speak but quickly shut it again. I didn't want to shatter the trust these guys had that their environment would protect them, but on the other hand, I didn't want them lulled into a false sense of security, either. There was somebody within this school who, for some reason, either hated Blaine personally enough to want to nearly kill him, or they were just a vicious homophobe from whom nobody was safe, and I wasn't going to take the risk that either one of these two amazing boys in front of me might be the next victim.

Swallowing my resolve, I straightened my back and levelled them a concerned stare.

"Well actually, David, that isn't entirely true. Dalton's not as safe as you think."

They listened in rapt attention as I relayed everything I knew about Blaine's attack and the small pieces of information I had gotten out of Blaine earlier regarding his attacker. Wes's face showed pure shock, David's more of a simmering anger. Both were relieved that Blaine had said he wasn't a Warbler, but I don't think either of them entertained the idea that it could have been one of the members of their singing group anyway.

I then told them about the security footage and of seeing Jon at the mall. Wes whipped out his phone and sent off a text, and within minutes the tall beatboxing Warbler had joined us in the now otherwise deserted common room. It was then that I realised that Rachel was missing, but I wasn't concerned about her disappearance; she was undoubtedly in prep-school-boy heaven.

Wes had moved out of David's lap before Jon's arrival so that the three of us sat in a row on the couch facing Jon as he sat cross legged on top of the coffee table. It amused me for a moment to see that it wasn't just Blaine who had a blatant disregard for the proper uses of furniture; it seemed to be a common Dalton thing. But Jon wasn't here for my amusement, and I quickly filled him in on the reason for my visit.

From the start, his reaction was different to Wes and David's. Jon didn't seem at all shocked by what I told him, and it didn't escape my attention that he was showing signs of being nervous, too. A sidelong glance at the other two boys beside me told me that I wasn't the only one who noticed.

Still, I didn't suspect Jon. I just had a sneaking suspicion that he knew more about this than any of the rest of us had imagined. I was right.

"Guys," he started slowly, exhaling as he spoke and twisting his fingers together in a nervous fashion.

"Dalton is great. The no bullying policy is one hundred percent airtight; it's strictly enforced and demands utter compliance from all the students. But you can't for one minute think that every student who goes here is open minded and accepting of everything, you know? A few of the guys here, when they're off campus and have a few drinks in them, they sometimes talk about how much they hate having to pretend that they're okay with this stuff."

Wes narrowed his eyes in a glare, but I beat him to the question.

"What 'stuff' Jon?"

Jon gave me a withering glare. "Guys at this school being gay, Kurt. Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm saying, and don't glare at me, Wes. I'm just saying what I've overheard a few guys at lacrosse practice say, okay? It's not my opinion; I don't care what people do or who they love, but some of these guys don't see it that way."

"Which guys, Jon? I need names. Has anyone ever mentioned Blaine specifically?"

He shook his head. "Of course not! Do you think I wouldn't have said something if anyone had said anything specific, after what happened to Blaine? I mean, I'm just saying a few guys aren't as tolerant as they have to pretend to be, but I don't think any of these guys would actually attack someone."

He turned to me. "You don't really think it could be a Dalton student, do you? Everyone loves Blaine; I don't think anyone who knows him could have done that to him, Kurt. Maybe when he told you that, he was just confused, you know?"

I dropped my head into my hand, shaking it even as I did so. I had considered the possibility that Blaine was mistaken about it being someone from Dalton, but he just seemed so sure the night that he said it, not to mention the fear. He was genuinely scared to return to Dalton, or even for me to return here for fear of further provoking his attackers.

I raised my gaze back up to Jon and shook my head with determination. "No Jon, he was sure. One of the guys who attacked him goes to this school."

He nodded in response but didn't speak. None of them did.

"Jon, that day at the mall ... did you see anyone from this school?

He stared at me carefully for a long time before he answered. "Yeah, I did Kurt, but I'm sure he's not your man. My buddy Paul from lacrosse was there with his little brother and some other guy. We ran into them in the food court and stopped to say hi. You and Blaine were in Coach; we were on the level above you, near the railing and we could see you guys looking at bags. But all Paul said was that Blaine looked happy. He wouldn't have hurt him Kurt, I promise you that."

My mouth had gone dry. As Jon's words sunk in, I glanced sideways at Wes, but only got the back of his head - his gaze was locked with David's. By the look on David's face, I was pretty sure all three of us were on the same page.

Paul, Paul's brother, and Paul's brother's friend.

Three guys.

-.-.-.-


	14. Chapter 14

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I made it all the way back to my car on autopilot before realising that I had come to Dalton with Rachel, and I couldn't leave without her. I sent her off a quick text telling her I was waiting for her in the car, then sat back and waited for her reply.

The school day was over; day students were trickling out of the buildings, and I scanned their faces, trying to figure out if one of them was Paul. I didn't know the guy at all; his name hadn't rung any bells for me, and I'm fairly sure I hadn't had any classes with him during my time at Dalton. I couldn't help but wonder how well Blaine knew him. Had they shared classes? Was Paul the kind of guy who would have been friendly to Blaine's face before he decided to literally stab him in the back?

Yeah, ok, I knew I was making some pretty huge assumptions here. Jon had been pretty adamant that Paul wasn't the guy we were looking for, but I couldn't really focus on that right now. I trusted Jon, so I knew that I should have trusted his opinion, but I couldn't stop my mind from picturing this faceless jock as Blaine's attacker anyway. Getting Paul's name as a suspect was the closest I had come so far to finding out anything about Blaine's attack, and my imagination was running wild with assumptions. I physically flinched as my brain conjured up the image of Blaine being held back by two guys as a Paul stabbed him, again and again. I heard myself whine in pain as I shook the horrible image out of my head, screwing up my eyes in disgust at my own imagination.

I just wanted to confront the guys who had done this to Blaine, whoever they were. I needed answers; I needed to understand why they did what they did. I wanted to ask them why Blaine's love for me had triggered such an aggressive response from them. I wanted to know if they had planned the attack, or if it was a spur of the moment decision. I wanted to know if they would have attacked me instead of Blaine, had the situation played out differently. But most of all, I think, I wanted to know if they felt any remorse whatsoever for the attack. Did they even still think about it; about what they had done, about the effect it had had on Blaine and all of the people who love him, or was it already forgotten?

I just wanted to speak to this Paul guy... to look him in the eye, and ask him if he was involved. Wes and David had talked me out of it, and I knew they were right in saying that this was a matter for the police... at this point, for me to confront this guy on my own would be premature and dangerous, but a part of me didn't care what happened to me. I just wanted to cause him some pain, even if it would only be a fraction of the pain that he had caused us.

I think the confusion of it all was what got to me the most. I just didn't understand why some people could feel so much hate towards another person, just because they happened to be gay. It honestly just didn't make sense to me.

I glared at my phone, frustrated at its continued silence. Rachel still hadn't replied.

Hopping out of my car and locking it behind me, I strolled towards the largest building, the Administration Centre.

All the trophies and accolades that the school had collected were gathered together in glass cases lining the halls, and I just knew that if I looked hard enough, I was bound to find the one person who I sought. I needed to put a face to the name.

I took my time, strolling slowly from one cabinet to the next, scanning names on trophies and the faces in the photos. I'd only just found the Lacrosse cabinet when my phone buzzed, and a quick glance informed me that Rachel was waiting for me at my car... but I didn't rush. The team photos weren't in any particular order; 2004 sat in between 2009 and 2006, so it took me a little while to find the one I was after where it was half hidden, on the third bottom shelf. I crouched down before it, scanning the names beneath the picture. According to the name listing, 'Paul Trick' was standing next to Jon Elliott in the back row. I quickly shifted my gaze to the photo.

I could see Jon standing in the back row; he was one of the biggest guys on the team, and towered over almost all the other players... all except for the tall burly blonde guy standing right beside him. The guy was just as wide across the shoulders as Jon, and possibly even an inch or two taller.

"Kurt?"

My name rang in a tinny echo off the walls and cabinets, startling me out of my thoughts. I turned quickly to see Rachel standing in the doorway, the door still propped open beside her as she scanned the darkened foyer for me.

"I'm here." I called back, letting my gaze drop to the team photograph again, determined to etch that face into my memory.

Rachel's excited voice trilled through the foyer. "Oh, are the Warblers trophies in here? How many competitions have they won? Trent was talking about their song selection for Sectionals, and after what I saw today, I think they are going to sound amazing no matter what they choose. We're really going to have to think long and hard about how to make sure we beat them..."

She kept on talking, but I couldn't honestly tell you what she said after that, her voice just droned on in that tireless pitch. I caught occasional words, like 'harmonies' and 'dance routines', but overall my mind was pretty thoroughly occupied elsewhere... such as on the MVP trophy etched with Pauls' name that sat in the very next cabinet, dated 2009. So Paul had been at Dalton a while. That increased the chances that Blaine would have known him.

Still, there was something about all this that just didn't feel right in my head, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was, or why.

It would come to me eventually. I was sure of it.

-.-.-.-

I drove slowly back to Lima, lost in thought. I was dimly aware of Rachel babbling on beside me about the adorable impromptu duet she had just sung with Trent on the Dalton staircase, but I couldn't have even told you what song they had sung, even though I'm sure she would have mentioned it. We were nearly back at McKinley before she thought to ask me how I had gone with my information gathering mission. I don't even remember how I replied to her. I was too distracted.

I dropped her off in the McKinley parking lot next to her car with a hug and a 'see you tomorrow', and drove the rest of the way home in silence.

I was quickly torn out of my musings, however, by the sturdy, compact body that wrapped itself around me upon my entry to the house. I hadn't even gotten the door closed behind me before Blaine had appeared out of nowhere to cannonball into my arms. I could feel his hitching breaths wracking his body, and there was a tremble to his arms as he held me, his body hunched over, his face buried in against my chest. My arms locked around him and I shushed him gently, automatically rocking his body in my arms to soothe him.

I glanced up from the mop of curls pressed against my chest to meet Carole's eyes as she gazed at us sympathetically from the kitchen doorway. She gave me a sad smile.

"He's been standing there at the door for the last two hours, waiting for you to get home. I tried everything to distract him, but he's so stubborn."

I gave her a weak grin in response. "Yeah, he is."

I tried to pry Blaine's arms off me so I could lead him into the Den, but he clung to me like a limpet, so I settled for an awkward crab walk; reversing him through the doorway and moving with him to lay him back on the couch, then curling in to join him. I was confused and angry, and all I really wanted to do was confront Blaine, demand that he tell me the truth, everything that had happened and who did it, but I knew I wouldn't get anything out of him if I didn't approach the subject carefully. And even then, I still didn't like my chances.

Blaine's trembling hands were stroking my body, pulling at my clothing, and I instinctively knew what he needed. I reached down with one hand and pulled my shirt up, fumbling with the lower buttons. Blaine's fidgeting fingers pushed against mine, trying to help but only hindering my movements. I could hear him moaning my name against my neck. He was in a worse state than I had expected, and I knew I was to blame for it. I should have come straight home at lunch time instead of driving an hour in the opposite direction; I should have known he would need to build up to us having whole days apart. I grabbed my undershirt and pulled it up, untucking it from my jeans and exposing my skin to Blaine's desperate touch.

He actually sighed in relief as his hand touched my bare skin, sliding up, under my shirt, caressing and touching my belly and chest.

"I'm here, love. I'm right here."

He snuggled in to my side so close and so tight that it felt like he wanted to burrow under my skin, and I hated that a small part of me loved that he was so dependent on me, and that he could find so much comfort in my presence. Just the fact that he was touching my skin had been enough to quieten the violent tremors coursing through his body, but his breath still hitched sporadically, and he stifled sobs with his mouth pressed against my neck. I just held him, stroking his back, and when Carole came in to check on us ten minutes later, he was sleeping soundly, though his body still hitched sporadically with lingering sobs. His arms still locked tightly around my waist, holding me securely to him, even in sleep.

Carole frowned at me, concern etched in to the lines on her face.

"I thought he was past this kind of reaction? I didn't even realise he wasn't coping until I couldn't pry him away from the front door. I'm sorry Kurt; I should have called you..."

I shook my head softly. "No, it's ok. It's not your fault. He is improving, he's doing so much better than he was. I think it's natural for him to have little relapses, it's not a big deal."

My dad's words from a few days ago rang in my mind, and I was tempted for a moment to ask Carole not to tell him about this little panic attack of Blaine's, but I couldn't ask her to lie to my dad... I wouldn't do that to their relationship. I knew he worried, probably more than anyone, that Blaine could have been receiving more intensive professional help if he had been in a care facility, and while I absolutely only wanted the best for him, I still firmly believed that he was doing well enough with just us. His first psych appointment was scheduled for tomorrow, and I didn't want to give them any more fuel for the 'institutionalise him' argument.

His body hitched again with a residual sob, and I tightened my arms around him a little, making sure he knew he was safe so that he could sleep. I didn't even need to ask Carole if he had rested today, I already knew that he wouldn't have, not without me. I turned back to Carole, meeting her concerned gaze.

"So how was he today, really?"

She sighed and gave me a small shrug.

"He was doing well to begin with. I could tell he was really trying hard to be ok with you not being here, but he started to get tired after lunch, and that's when he started losing control. I tried to get him to go up to your room for a nap, but he wouldn't even walk up the stairs without you; so then I told him you would be home soon, which was a big mistake, because then he wouldn't leave the door."

I shook my head. "Yeah sorry, I should have just come straight home..."

Carole cut me off. "Where did you go?"

I turned away from her, gazing back at Blaine as I stroked small circles on his back.

"I went up to Dalton with Rachel. I was trying to get some answers."

When she next spoke, her voice came from a much closer place, and it startled me. I glanced up to see Carole now sitting just a few feet away from me in the armchair.

"Answers about what, honey?" She asked gently.

I knew I should have already spoken to my her and my dad about what Blaine had told me of his attackers, but it just seemed like an intense and difficult topic to discuss when I didn't even have anything solid to go on. It wasn't that I was trying to deliberately keep it from them; I just didn't have the energy to think about it, let alone try to work out what it all meant. I would tell them both soon, but I needed to talk to Blaine about it first. I knew that I would only have to mention this guy's name to Blaine to know whether he was involved or not ... Blaine's reaction to the name would give me all the answer I needed. There was no point alarming my parents before I even knew if I was on the right track.

"Just details about the attack... but it didn't help. If anything, I'm more confused now than ever."

She leaned over and kissed me on the forehead, soft and sweet. "You should get some rest too honey. I'll wake you boys when dinner is ready."

-.-.-.-

Dinner turned out to be a quiet affair. Finn was sulking and kept glaring at me, but I couldn't really care enough in the moment to bother working out what I had done to piss him off. My dad had clearly had a bad day at work; he grumbled a little at first about the risks people were putting themselves and their families in by driving on bald tyres, and just moaning about irresponsible people in general, but he fell silent as soon as Carole's chicken cacciatore hit the table before him, and barely even bothered to draw breath for the rest of the meal. Carole tried to get us to talk about our days, but I was still too worked up about my Dalton visit to be able to manage polite conversation, so I just let it go. She eventually just gave up, and as soon as Blaine and I had finished I excused us both from the table, and led him up the stairs to my room.

As had become our routine, I turned my back and busied myself at the desk while Blaine undressed and took his shower. My head was busy and full of the day's events, so much so that I didn't hear the water turn off, so Blaine's sudden reappearance in my bedroom startled me. I could feel the tension in my neck, and at the realisation of that, I also became immediately aware that I had been grinding my teeth.

Blaine only had the towel slung low around his hips, and I could see the steam rising from his still damp body. I noticed, however, that the sight of him nearly naked before me as he waited for me to apply his creams didn't have the same physical effects on me as it usually did. In fact, tonight – as ashamed as I am to admit it - the sight of him irritated me.

I gritted my teeth as I rubbed the oil in to the scars on his wrist, still holding the limb gently in my hand, but even I could feel the difference in the way I touched him tonight. I was rougher; faster in my actions and less loving and sympathetic in my behaviour, and from the vaguely confused glances that I caught him throwing at me, I'm quite certain that he noticed the differences too.

To be honest I wasn't sure where my sudden anger had come from, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised just how justified it was. Why hadn't he told me the details of the attack? Why wouldn't he go to the police and give them a statement? Why wouldn't he defend himself against these people? But mostly, what baffled and angered me in equal measure was why on earth he would protect the guys who had done this to him?

I was still deeply lost in my thoughts, and my reasons for why my anger was justified as I rubbed the oil in to the scar on his chin, when his hand closed gently around my wrist, capturing my attention close up, and I noticed then that he was trembling slightly.

"What's wrong, Kurt?"

I just shook my head, dismissing his question, and gently twisted my arm to attempt to free my wrist, but he wouldn't release me.

I glanced back up at him, meeting his eyes.

"Why are you mad at me?

I could see the hurt and confusion on his face, and it grounded me. I couldn't be mad at him for this; none of it was his fault. I  _knew_ that... it didn't stop me from being frustrated though.

I shook my head and dropped my gaze guiltily.

"I'm not mad at you Blaine. I'm sorry... I'm just frustrated."

He nodded quickly, lifting his arms to loop them loosely around my waist, holding me close. I melted into his touch, not realising until that moment how much I needed it. I stroked his curls with one hand, revelling in the feel of them curly and still damp from his shower. It was now or never...

"Blaine, honey? I need to tell you something."

All of a sudden I felt worried about telling Blaine about my trip to Dalton; like I had betrayed him by going. I hesitated, taking the time to choose my words carefully before I spoke them.

"I went to Westerville today. I spoke to Wes and David and Jon. They wanted me to tell you that hope you are feeling better soon. They all send their love."

Blaine's hands had started to shake as I spoke, and I clasped them both again, between my own, holding them steady.

"Kurt, you can't go there. It's not safe for you."

I shook my head. "I'm fine, love. I didn't get hurt. We're going to make it safe there again, ok? All we have to do to make it safe is catch the guys who did this to you. Can you help me do that, love?"

Blaine shook his head defiantly. "No Kurt. You just need to drop it, please? You have to stay away!"

I ignored him for a moment, just holding his gaze. "Jon gave me a name, Blaine."

Blaine's face paled as he fought to hold my gaze. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again without a sound.

I waited patiently, rubbing the back of his hand soothingly with my fingertips. I needed to talk to him about this calmly, and I knew that for that to happen, I would need to tread very carefully here. Calm meant  _slow,_ and  _gentle... soft and understanding._ I couldn't rush him.

"What did Jon say? Who...?"

"A guy from his Lacrosse Team. Paul Trick."

Blaine started trembling all over, his back was stiff and straight, and he refused to meet my eyes. I watched his body language carefully, noting the sweats and the trembling... and the fear. But I had to admit, his reaction to me saying the name wasn't as violent as I would have expected it to be if it was the name of one of his attackers.

"Please just tell me Blaine, was it him?"

He seemed like he was about to bite clean through his lower lip with tension, but he still stared me straight in the eye, unflinchingly as he spoke.

"No. Paul didn't touch me."

I just stared at him in disbelief, and after a few moments I raised one eyebrow questioningly.

"Was he there when it happened? Did he have anything to do with any of it?"

"No Kurt. Stop it, I can't..."

"Why are you lying to me, Blaine?"

His gaze narrowed as he stared back at me stubbornly. His voice was low. Quiet.

Scared.

"I'm not lying to you Kurt. Now will you please just drop it?"

He pushed my hand away, brushing it off his arm, and managed to pin me with one final harsh glare before he stalked across the room and flopped down onto my bed; rolling over onto his side he settled himself under the covers, obviously trying to end the conversation then and there, but I wouldn't have it.

"Damnit Blaine, I do not understand why in the hell you want to let these bastards get away with what they did to you!"

He didn't answer me.

I rose up out of my desk chair, angry and frustrated again at his lack of cooperation, and his inability to understand why I wouldn't just drop it... why I  _couldn't_ drop it.

"What if it had been me, huh? If they had attacked me, Blaine, would you drop it? I know damn well that you wouldn't... you would be doing exactly what I am doing now, trying to find out who it was so that they could be punished to the full extent of the law for what they had done... so why do you expect me to be any different?"

I sat down on the edge of my bed, just behind his covered body. I automatically reached out a hand to rest on his hip, but at second thought I let it hover over him, suddenly unsure of whether he would want me to touch him right now. After a few moments though, I let it drop lightly, rubbing soft, smooth circles against his hip and back, through the blanket. He didn't seem to object.

I softened my voice, deliberately losing all the anger.

"Honestly, I could kill them, Blaine. I want to tear these guys apart with my bare hands for what they did to you. We can't leave them free on the streets, thinking that they can get away with this. They have to be locked up."

He sobbed softly into my pillow, but was otherwise silent.

"I know that you know who they are, Blaine. I can't even begin to express to you how much that hurts me; that you know them. You could put an end to all this, right now, but you won't. But why won't you? Why are you protecting them?"

Without moving his body much at all, Blaine turned his head to face me.

"I'm not protecting them, Kurt. I just know that it's not going to make any difference."

Anger flared again, but I bit it back in favour of keeping him talking.

"Why wouldn't it make any difference?"

His body shook beneath the covers, and I pressed my chest down a little firmer against his back, trying to comfort him.

He hesitated a few moments before he answered me.

"Because nothing is going to change what they think of us, Kurt. It's not going to make him stop doing this to people like us."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Him who? Is it Paul?"

Blaine shook his head. "No. Paul is involved, but believe me Kurt, he had nothing to do with the attack. Not this time."

My body went stiff as I sat there, gaping mouthed, staring at Blaine. My next words came out as a kind of choked whisper.

"Wait. Do you mean that these same guys have done this before?"

Blaine didn't respond. Then another thought occurred to me.

"Blaine? Has he hurt you before? Please Love, tell me this... it's important."

"Yeah, he has. They all have."

It was a simple answer, but it immediately changed everything that I thought I knew about Blaine's attack.

"Oh my God, Blaine ... were these the same guys who attacked you and your friend the night of your Sadie Hawkins dance?"

Blaine turned over, his tear stained face pale and worried as he reached for me, pulling me into his arms with a sense of urgency and a strength I didn't realise he was capable of given the cast on his arm.

"Kurt, just stop. Please? I can't... you just don't understand. You can't go up against these guys... I just... "

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His eyes held mine with a desperate intensity. "They warned me not to, but I didn't listen, Kurt. And Tyrone wouldn't back down either... we were both so stupid."

My mind was racing to keep up; to piece together the little tidbits of the past that Blaine had shared with me, and to make them make sense.

"Wait... Tyrone was your friend from Jefferson High? The other gay kid?

He just nodded sadly.

"Did he get badly hurt?"

He nodded again.

"Did you tell the police about it then?"

He shook his head 'no'. I bristled.

"Why Blaine? Why are you keeping this quiet? Why would you protect these monsters?"

"I was too scared, Kurt. And now, I'm just trying to protect you, Kurt... not them. I want them to burn in hell, but I won't let them  _touch_ you. I can't. You have to understand..."

"Can you help me to understand, Blaine. Will you tell me what happened?"

He stared at me for a long moment before he finally nodded his ascent.

"Ok Kurt. Fine, I'll tell you everything, and then you will know why I can't go to the police. But I'm going to have to start at the beginning... "

-.-.-.-


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: There is some hate speech in this chapter, as well as descriptions of violence. Also, I don't mean to imply that all religious people are homophobic bigots... but most of them that will ever appear in my stories are, so, you've been warned...

Fifteen minutes later Blaine sat cross legged in the middle of my bed, dressed in a pair of my silk pyjama pants and nursing a steaming mug of tea, ready to tell me his story.

Surprisingly, he didn't seem nervous. I'd been half expecting him to change his mind by the time I got back from the kitchen with his beverage, but I found him sitting quietly in the semi darkness, waiting for me with a resigned, patient glower on his lips. He took the mug from me with a nod of thanks and beckoned for me to join him on the bed.

"I'm not totally convinced that I should be telling you this story, Kurt. It's pretty full on, and once you know, you might think differently of me..."

I laid a hand gently on his knee.

"Nothing you say will change how I feel about you, Blaine. I swear to you. You can tell me anything."

His dark eyes twinkled as he gazed up at me from under those impossibly long lashes.

"I know I can, Kurt. I trust you."

He exhaled a deep, shaky breath, and I raised my hand from his knee up to his cheek, gently caressing his soft skin.

"I love you Blaine. Now, just start from the beginning... and just know that I'm still going to be right here for you when you're through, no matter what you tell me, okay? Take all the time you need."

He nodded, took a deep breath, and then, staring deep into my eyes, he began to speak.

"You've met my parents, Kurt, so you know that I was raised in a very religious household, right?"

I nodded, and he continued, his voice gradually growing stronger and more confident as he spoke.

"My parents were best friends with our Pastor and his wife. They had five sons. We all grew up together; Luke was my age, the second eldest in their family. The eldest was Paul. Then, after Luke was Greg, and then there were Adam and Scott. Adam is the same age as Aaron; their birthdays are just two days apart.

"The seven of us boys got along great; we did everything together. We four older ones, Paul, Luke, Greg and I were inseparable. We went to church camps together, bible study, boy scouts. We hung out together at the river every summer and built a rope swing and had camp outs. Luke and I were in the same class at school for five years in a row, and after school we would come home and study together, and on weekends we would have sleepovers. He was my best friend in the whole world. I mean, I loved their whole family, but Luke was definitely my favourite."

I nodded along, trying to encourage Blaine to continue, although I already had a horrible feeling that I knew where he was going with this. Then something else clicked in my mind.

"Wait... Paul, the eldest brother? Is that Paul Trick, from Dalton?"

Blaine bit his lip and nodded sadly. I vowed not to interrupt him again.

"Then, when Luke and I were both 13, things started to change. I'd known for a couple of years by then that I was gay, though I didn't actually call myself that back then, and I realised that I had feelings for Luke. It terrified me, Kurt, and I vowed that I would keep it a secret so that it wouldn't hurt my family. I might not have ever come out, especially not so young, if it hadn't been for Luke.

"The bible had taught me that everything I was feeling was wrong, and I tried to bury it, but every time I looked at Luke, I could feel it. I started to get the feeling that he was aware of how I felt about him, and that was terrifying enough, but then I realised that he seemed to enjoy the attention I gave him... and he started to give it back. I caught him watching me get changed in his room one day; he was checking out my butt, and when I caught him looking he just winked at me and gave me this stupid shy smile. It didn't take me long to figure out that he felt the same way about me.

"But neither of us did anything about it. For so long, we just kinda flirted and watched each other. We started hitting the gym together, both of us working on our bodies, and both of us not even trying to hide how much it turned us on to work out together. Then he took up HaiKiDo, and he used to practice it everywhere... and I just used to watch the way he made his body move. Whenever I used to sing, he would get this glazed look to his eyes. We never spoke about it, but both of us knew it was there."

Blaine's eyes had taken on a dreamy, faraway look as he remembered his old friend, a wistful smile playing softly around the corner of his lips.

"In the first week of summer, just after I had turned 15, we took the tent down to the river for a sleep out, just him and me. Our parents thought nothing of it. We were old friends, practically brothers ourselves in their eyes. It was all completely innocent... but everything was about to change. I'll never forget that night, not for the rest of my life."

He hesitated in his story and reached out to silently take my hand, seeking comfort. I steeled myself for what was to come next.

"After dark that night, Kurt, when we were both lying in that tent pretending that we were ready to sleep, I finally got the balls to do the thing I had wanted to do with Luke for years. I kissed him. I remember it so clearly. He laughed out loud and I was suddenly terrified... and then he rolled towards me and said in this tiny, quiet voice...  _'That was nice'._ "

I let out a breath I hadn't even known I was holding. That wasn't what I had expected Blaine to say at all.

"He kissed me then... again and again. It was incredible. Neither of us could get over how amazing it felt. We talked and talked about how we felt about each other and how scared we were, and we wondered if God would punish us for being so full of sin. We were both so confused about what we felt versus what we had been taught to believe... nothing made sense, but it just felt so good and so right.

"Then all of a sudden we weren't alone anymore. We didn't even hear them coming. One minute we were lying there, holding each other and kissing... and then Greg and Paul were there, and there was screaming and crying and cursing. Paul was so angry at us both, he was shaking. He punched me in the face and called us horrible filthy fags and told us he would make us realise how wrong it was for us to do what we were doing. I remember he kept shaking Luke; he had him by the shoulders and was shaking him, and he slammed him into a tree. Luke was crying and begging Paul not to tell their parents, and Greg was just... in shock, I think. He was angry too, but he didn't really seem to know what to do. He was just watching Paul.

"I remember thinking that Paul sounded so much like his dad when he gave his Sunday sermons in the church. He was talking about the wrath of God, and he had that strong, preaching tone to his voice. He told us that we were dirty and that we needed to be cleansed of the evil we had done and our evil, sinful thoughts. Then he pushed me back and I fell onto the river bank, and he dragged Luke into the river and held him under. He said Luke needed to be cleansed. He was crying, and I was crying because I was so scared, and I wanted to go and help Luke, and I wanted everything to be okay again.

"It was like it was happening in slow motion. I remember the pain and the fear and the anger on Paul's face as he held Luke down under the water. I remember him shaking Luke's body, forcing him to stay there. He told him that he needed to be reborn, cleansed of his sins. But then Luke stopped fighting him, and I thought that it was over... but when Paul finally let him go, he didn't come up."

Blaine paused in his story, silent tears streaming down his face and making his eyes swim as he met my matching tear-filled gaze. I pulled him tightly into my arms, squeezing him as hard as I dared and holding on to him for dear life. I couldn't imagine the horror that he had been through on that river bank.

I held him until our tears dried up and our breathing had returned to normal, and then, in a timid voice, Blaine continued his story.

"By the time I came out of my shock enough to realise that he wasn't breathing, it was too late. I remember jumping into the water to grab him, and I pulled him out of Paul's arms and dragged him up on to the bank, but Paul wouldn't let me give him mouth to mouth. I was trained, Kurt... I had gotten my first aid certificate at Scouts earlier that year. Luke and I both got it at the same time, but Paul wouldn't let me 'kiss' him again. I couldn't argue with him, Kurt; he was older than me, and he was still so angry. I tried everything else - I pumped his chest and put him in the recovery position, but he never regained consciousness.

"Paul told me and Greg to run back to the house to get his dad and to call for an ambulance, but when we got back, he was just sitting on the ground with Luke's head in his lap. Luke was dead. Paul told his dad that Luke had gone into the river off the rope swing and never came back up. He told his dad that  _he_ had tried to save him. Greg and I didn't contradict him. I didn't want Pastor Trick to know what had really happened, and I didn't want Luke to go to hell, so I kept my mouth shut."

I sat staring at Blaine in disbelief, mouth agape. I didn't have the words to tell him how sorry I was for the loss of his best friend, his first love. I didn't have words to show my sympathy for what he had been through or my empathy for what he must have felt in that moment.

"I could have saved his life, Kurt, but I didn't. I was too scared. He died because I was too scared to stand up to his brother and give him mouth to mouth. It was that simple. A few breaths and he would have lived..."

I shook my head. "You don't know that, Blaine. And you were only a little kid! None of it was your fault."

Blaine's tears started again in earnest, and this time all I could do was hold him until they finally abated, hours later.

I knew there was still an awful lot of story left for him to tell, but I thought that he had relived enough for one night.

I held Blaine tightly while he slept, startling every time he gave out the small, pained whimpers that revealed the content of his dreams. I think I dozed in places but never for very long.

The clock on my wall read 3:50 am when I gently disentangled myself from Blaine's limbs to get up to use the bathroom, and when I returned, Blaine was sitting up on the bed, his head hanging in his hands.

I slipped on to the bed beside him, rubbing small soothing circles on his back.

"Hey love. How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?"

He leaned his head towards me, nuzzling into my shoulder, and I pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead.

"Thank you for listening to me, Kurt. You know, I've never told anyone any of this before. It kinda feels nice to be able to share it with someone."

I nodded gently, rocking my cheek back and forth over the top of his head so he could feel the motion.

"So, you never even told your parents?"

He shook his head. "No. As far as everyone else knows, Luke drowned after swinging into the water that night. Only Paul, Greg and I ever knew the truth. Paul never forgave himself for what he did. He came to my house one day about three months after it happened, and he told me how sorry he was and asked me to forgive him. He said it was an accident, and he was sorry. He was just so sorry, Kurt. I didn't want him to keep punishing himself for it - it was a stupid mistake. He was never the same after that night by the river. He transferred to Dalton before the new school year started. He said he just wanted to put it all behind him and get a fresh start in a place where no one could pity him for having lost a brother.

"I stayed at Jefferson, and Greg was still there too. Greg hadn't been able to even look at me after that night at the river, but I didn't realise until much later that he blamed me for the whole thing. After my talk with Paul that day at my house, I realised that I needed to be honest about who I was. It took me a few weeks to work up the courage to do it, but I finally came out to my parents and to the kids at school. It was a huge step; it made me feel like I was honouring Luke's memory by admitting that I was gay. There was another guy at Jefferson High who was already out, and when I came out, he sort of took me under his wing and tried to protect me."

I met his eyes. "Tyrone?" I asked simply. Blaine just nodded.

"Ty was so proud of who he was. He was flamboyant and fashionable. Actually, come to think of it, he was similar to you in quite a lot of ways, though he wasn't anywhere near as gorgeous as you."

I grinned at the unexpected compliment, even as a quick blush rushed up my neck to flood my cheeks. Blaine angled his head and lowered his mouth to mine, the kiss quick but soft and possessive. I leaned back in against him as he continued.

"Only a week or so after I came out, the flyers went up around the school for a Sadie Hawkins dance. I wasn't interested in Ty like that; we were just friends, but he was gay too, and I thought it would be nice, and empowering, for us to go together. We bought each other corsages, and his dad offered to drive us to and from the dance. My parents hadn't reacted well to my announcement, and at that point, we were at a kind of a stalemate as to what to do about my revelation about being gay. Mom tried to say that it was my way of trying to cope with my grief from losing Luke, and my dad just refused to acknowledge it altogether. So on the night when I was being picked up by another boy's father to take us to a school dance, my family had made sure that they weren't home. They were at the Tricks. Mrs. Trick especially was still struggling to cope with losing Luke, and my mom spent a lot of time there, trying to help her.

"Anyway, sorry, I'm getting sidetracked. Ty and his dad picked me up and we went to the dance. We were 15 - we didn't actually dance, we kind of just stood around a lot, drinking punch and sabotaging the decorations in the school gym. Then afterward, when we were waiting for Ty's dad to pick us up, Greg came up to me and started trying to pick a fight. That was the first time he had really spoken to me since the night Luke died, and I had never realised before then just how much he hated me for what had happened. He told me that if I hadn't turned his brother into a faggot, he would still be alive. He said I needed to learn a lesson.

"Two of Greg's friends were with him, and when Greg started getting violent and pushing me around, they joined in. They dragged Ty around the corner, near the dumpsters, and started kicking the shit out of him. I chased them, trying to help him. I couldn't believe that it was happening again. I couldn't let Ty get hurt because of me... not him too."

Blaine shook his head, trying to clear it of the bad memories, his face screwed up in concentration. His body was trembling, and I wrapped my arms around him to try to quiet him, but he shook me off.

"Sorry Kurt, but if I don't get this out now, I might not be able to finish it. Just... let me ... I'm fine. It's okay."

I nodded, sitting back away from him, giving him his space. He held his hand out to me, and I took it, clasping it warmly in my own.

"Anyway, you don't need to hear the details of the attack. That's not important. I don't remember much more than that anyway. I lost consciousness after that, and then I woke up in hospital the next afternoon. Ty was down the hall in intensive care. He had swelling on his brain. He didn't have any recollection of that night, and I pretended that I didn't either. I said I didn't know who had attacked us, because I knew that if I told them it was Greg, there would be too many questions. They would all want to know why, and I couldn't tell them the truth about Luke. I never want to soil his memory by telling people things about him that he never had a chance to even properly admit to himself. It's not my place to do that. I won't ever give his family a reason to hate him.

"I never went back to Jefferson after the Sadie Hawkins dance. My dad decided that he was transferring me to Dalton where Paul could keep an eye on me. I didn't object. The idea of a fresh start, coupled with the 'no bullying' policy at Dalton, sounded pretty nice to me actually, so I told people that it was my choice to leave my old school and I never looked back.

"I missed Luke like crazy, but I kept my memories of him to myself. I'm sorry that I never told you about him, but I wouldn't have known how to explain to you where he was now without telling you the truth, and I just wasn't ready to speak about it before now. I hope you can understand that, Kurt."

I nodded sadly. Yeah, I understood now why Blaine had always been so secretive and stoic about his past. I'd had my theories, but none of them had ever come close to what I was hearing now. Everything finally made sense to me.

"You know most of the rest, Kurt. Dalton was great for me; my confidence grew, I landed on my feet as the Warblers' lead soloist, and then I met you. All of a sudden my life was wonderful again. Paul and I saw each other around the halls every now and then, but there was sort of an unspoken agreement between us that we would just pretend we didn't really know each other, and neither of us ever mentioned Luke. He wasn't unkind to me, and I am certain that he never knew that it was Greg who attacked me and Ty the night of the school dance. I never spoke to Greg again after that until the day you and I were at the mall together. That day, Kurt, just happened to be the second anniversary of the day Luke died."

I gasped in a breath. Oh my God. It was all falling in to place.

Blaine squeezed my fingers lightly, silently requesting my silence. Then he kept talking.

"Paul and Greg were there at the mall that day. I saw them a couple of times. I don't know if they were following us, but if they were it was Greg doing it, not Paul. Then Greg's girlfriend joined them, and they seemed to disappear for a while, so I stopped worrying. I figured they had gone. But just before we left the mall to walk to your car, I saw Greg again. His girlfriend was still with him, and so was one of the guys from that night at Sadie Hawkins, but Paul had gone. The three of them followed us out to the parking lot. I didn't want you to worry, so I didn't tell you they were there. Obviously, I didn't know what they were going to do. I'm just so happy that you got out of there, Kurt. I already lost Luke, and after what they did to Ty, I just couldn't bear the thought of you falling victim to them too.

"They told me they were going to kill me that night. They...  _he_  meant it. Greg meant it, and then he said he was going to come after you. Greg stabbed me. He got his girlfriend and the other guy to hold me, and then he stabbed me again and again. He said I didn't deserve to have a dick if..."

He glanced up at me, squeezing my hand at the same time, and I could see him actually pulling himself physically out of that memory as he spoke.

"You know what? It doesn't matter what he said. It's not important. What is important is that I realised that I had to get away from him while I still could, and so I did. I managed to free myself, and I ran. They were right behind me, but I got to my car, and I got in, and I was safe. I was only going to hide in there until they went away, but they started smashing up the car. I think I must have blacked out for a while or something, because I don't remember anything from then until he smashed the windscreen and I felt the glass hit my face. Then I kind of woke up and found the key and somehow drove all the way here... to you... and when I saw that you were safe I was okay then, I could let go.

"But I can't forget what he said, Kurt, or what I know that he is capable of, and I won't ever let him hurt you, no matter what. He doesn't know your name. He doesn't know anything about you except that you are my boyfriend, but he knows that hurting you would kill me, so I am terrified that he is going to try. I can't let that happen baby, I have to keep you away from him."

He looked me straight in the eyes, his hazel orbs intense and desperate and burning into mine.

"You can't ever go back to Dalton, Kurt. You can't confront Paul. He doesn't know anything about it all anyway – but if you say anything to him then he will go and talk to Greg, and he would tell Greg about you, and if Greg knows details about you then I know he would try to find you. I just can't risk you getting hurt too, Kurt. God, if he ever touched you..."

He was trembling again, his fingers digging too hard into the skin and muscles in my arms. I reached forward to pull him into my embrace, and he fell against me with a desperate urgency, seeking my lips with his own and stroking my face as he kissed me. His sobbing sighs and desperate tears subsided eventually, but I didn't stop kissing him. Our bodies tangled together on the bed with the covers caught up in a bunch behind Blaine's back, and at some point I became aware that our kisses had stopped being about comfort and had become more erotic, punctuated with little nibbles and licks and gentle moans. Blaine's hands stealthily worked on my buttons. I hadn't even realised that he'd undone my shirt until his mouth finally left mine to trail soft kisses across my chest, and I gasped aloud when his mouth closed over my nipple.

I was aware of the way my body was reacting to Blaine, but I couldn't let anything happen. Not right now. He had just told me the details of the most traumatic events of his life. He was weak and vulnerable and in need of comfort, and regardless of how tempting it was to just let him continue what he was doing, I knew that we would both regret it if our first time making love together was in reaction to what he had just told me.

My problem was that I didn't know how to make him stop without hurting or rejecting him.

I never thought I would say this, but thank God for my Dad and his 'inappropriate stuff is happening in my house' radar. His timing was impeccable.

A loudly enunciated yawn echoed through the stairwell outside my bedroom door, immediately causing Blaine to pause his actions. He raised his head to meet my eyes and we shared a smile, and I just rolled my eyes, but I was secretly rather grateful for the disruption.

Blaine sighed and moved up the bed, curling his body in next to mine and cuddling my side.

I turned to face him, and I couldn't help the small flutter that trickled through my heart at the look of pure love and adoration on his face.

"You are so strong, Blaine," I said quietly. "You are amazing, baby, and I am so proud of you."

He lowered his gaze from mine and drew his lip into his mouth between his teeth. He didn't believe my words.

"You have been through so much, Blaine, but you are healing more and more each day."

"It's only because of you, Kurt. You make me strong. You give me courage."

We both smiled at that word.

"As you do to me. We can do anything we like if we do it together, Blaine."

He just nodded.

I cupped his cheek, making him meet my eyes.

"I'm coming with you to your psych appointment today, if that's okay. I think you need me there."

He nodded. "I do. I always need you."

I gazed carefully into his eyes, gauging his reaction.

"Will you actually talk to him?"

He quickly shook his head, but I pressed on.

"I think you should. I think he could really help you to deal with what you've been through, and remember, he has a confidentiality clause... he can't repeat anything you say to him. All he could do is give you advice and maybe help you learn to cope with your grief and fear. He'll know much more about how to help you than I do, baby. I think it would be great if you could take advantage of that."

He shook his head, but I could tell that he was considering what I had said. He snuggled back into my arms a bit more, tightening his arms around my waist.

"I don't mean that you have to tell him everything if you don't want to, love. You could tell him how you are feeling without having to tell him all the reasons why."

He was quiet for a long time, and I had pretty much given up on the conversation until I felt him move. His head turned slightly, away from my side, so that I could hear his words.

"I will try Kurt... for you. But I'll only talk about me. I'm not going to tell him about Luke. I can't."

I nodded slowly. "What about Greg and the attacks?"

"No."

I waited for him to expand on that, but he never did. Just that word, 'no', spoke volumes to me, but I knew I had to be patient with him. The fact that he just agreed to talk to another person at all was a major step for him.

It pissed me off though, especially now that I had a better understanding of why Blaine was the way he was. Greg had gotten Blaine so terrified of who he was that he didn't even think he was entitled to justice for what the bastard had done to him, but I knew that this also had a lot to do with Blaine's upbringing.

I wanted to argue with him, to tell him that we couldn't allow this vicious homophobe to remain on the loose. I needed to convince him that we had to go to the police with his story. I wanted to help Blaine get justice for what was done to him, and to Ty... and dammit, for poor Luke too. Just because Paul was sorry for what he did doesn't take away the fact that he killed his own brother with his bare hands after finding out he was gay. I knew Blaine was scared, but I honestly couldn't ever see how he would be able to recover from this while these guys remained unpunished for their crimes, especially while Greg was loose on the streets to inflict pain upon any other people whose behaviour or sexuality he found offensive.

I had already made up my mind about Greg. One way or another, I wasn't going to let him get away with what he had done.

I just had to work out a way to do it without betraying Blaine's trust in me.

-.-.-.-


	16. Chapter 16

I left Blaine resting peacefully in my bed at around 7am and wandered downstairs to find my father before he left for work. After what Blaine had confided in me last night, I knew that I had to finally have a long overdue talk with my Dad to fill him in on some of the details about the attack.

I know what you're probably thinking, but don't worry guys, I wasn't betraying Blaine's trust. Before he fell asleep, he and I discussed the fact that my parents would have to be told something... it was only fair after everything that they had done for Blaine. Additionally, I had promised him that they wouldn't try and go to the Police behind his back without his consent. He eventually agreed to let me tell them whatever I wanted, but I quickly assured him that I wouldn't reveal any more of Luke's personal details than was necessary.

I padded lightly into the kitchen on bare feet. Carole was at the stove cooking eggs, by the smell of it, and Dad was making coffee. Dad caught my movement in the doorway and turned, smiling briefly at me until he took in my dishevelled appearance, grim expression and the bags under my eyes that were big enough to clip a price tag to and hang in the window at Coach.

"Kurt? You look like you haven't slept?"

I smiled weakly at him as I leaned on the back of a dining chair, pulling it out with a welcoming gesture as I spoke.

"Yeah, that's because I haven't. Dad, Carole... can you both please sit with me for a minute, I need to tell you guys a few things."

My dad took an extra mug down out of the cupboard and placed the three mugs, the coffee pot and sweetener on the table before turning towards the fridge to get the milk. His eyes fell to his handwritten note that I had stuck to the fridge as a reminder of Blaine's psych appointment.

"Don't forget Blaine's appointment today, Carole. The Psych's name is Ray Davies, he's over the other side of town, in Turner street. 1.30 pm."

I cleared my throat. "Actually Dad, I'll be taking him today, if that's ok. He's going to need me there."

My dad levelled a stern glare at me, but then gave in with a sigh.

"Oh alright, but just for today Kurt. No more days off school after this, okay?"

I just nodded, waiting for him to sit down at the table, which he did a few seconds later, then Carole sat down beside him and they both gazed up at me expectantly..

"Okay, now don't be mad..."

"Kurt, that's never a good way to start a conversation..."

I glared at him, as Carole poured me a mug of coffee and sat it on the table in front of me. I smiled up at her in thanks, and she squeezed my shoulder lightly in response.

"I mean it Dad. I didn't say anything before, because I didn't have enough to go on, but after last night, I have some stuff to tell you about Blaine's attack... and I really need to tell you guys, because I need you to help me figure out what to do about it, and how to help him. I can't betray his trust, but I'm not gonna sit back and be passive about this anymore either."

My Dad sat forward, a concerned frown on his face.

"Kurt, what's going on?"

I sighed. "Okay. A few days ago, Blaine let it slip to me that he doesn't ever want to go back to Dalton. He's scared to go back there. He finally admitted to me that he knew his attackers, and that one of them goes to Dalton... which, as it turned out isn't entirely correct. The guy at Dalton isn't actually one of Blaine's attackers, it's his brother... but I didn't find that out until after I went up to Westerville yesterday afternoon to find out who this guy was..."

"Oh my God, Kurt!"

I paused, more from my father's tone of voice than from the words he spoke. He stared at me incredulously.

"Are you freaking insane? You went looking for Blaine's violent, homophobic attacker? By yourself?"

"No, of course I wasn't by my..." I trailed off. Yeah, I suddenly didn't think that my father would see Rachel as being suitable backup, so I changed tactics.

"I didn't confront anyone, Dad. It was an information gathering mission only, I promise you. I was safe the entire time. Anyway Dad, please just listen. Blaine and I spoke about all this last night, for hours, and he told me everything."

My Dad's eyes widened and an eyebrow arched, waiting for me to continue.

"It's very complicated, and he's made me promise that I won't go to the Police. There's a long history between him and the people who attacked him, Dad, and to be honest with you, I have no idea what to do about any of it. I just want to help him, but I don't want to betray him in order to do it."

God, I was so tired. All I really wanted to do was go back upstairs and curl up next to Blaine in my nice big soft bed and sleep all day, but my thoughts were too jumbled, and I was too angry and messed up to truly relax. I knew I wouldn't be able to let this go until I had worked out a solution. Part of me just wanted to drive straight down to the station right now and tell everything Blaine had told me to the Police, but I knew I couldn't do that. Blaine's trust in me meant everything to me... I had to find a way to do the right thing without upsetting the balance.

My Dad dropped his hand on top of mine on the table.

"Kurt. I can't help you if I don't know the whole story. Fill me in buddy. I'll do everything in my power to help Blaine, you know that."

I stared up into his face.

"You're not going to do anything that Blaine isn't ready for, are you? If you go to the Police, Dad, he won't ever trust me again."

He sighed. "No, I won't, but I might be able to do something else. I'll need all the information you have on these people first though. Tell me everything Blaine said, Kurt. Leave nothing out."

I could feel the firm, almost painful pressure of my teeth against my bottom lip as I stared at my Dad. I trusted him, unequivocally, but telling him everything would mean telling him about Luke, something Blaine had specifically asked me not to do. Even if I left out the specific details about Luke now, just speaking out about Blaine's attackers was going to eventually lead back to Luke's death anyway, and I knew how much Blaine didn't want that to happen. Still, I wasn't going to keep quiet about the attack; that wasn't even an option. I guess I really had no choice.

"Okay Dad."

Carole had gotten up from the table to serve my Dad's breakfast, and she had slid it in front of him as we talked. I worked my way through the story slowly, trying to remember every detail that Blaine had told me, and relaying it to my father and Carole. I'd just finished telling them about the events that night at the river when we heard footsteps on the stairs, and Finn appeared at the kitchen door. Carole quickly turned him around and pushed him back up the stairs to shower before breakfast, then turned back to me.

"We've got about fifteen minutes before Finn returns. Talk fast honey."

-.-.-.-

In the end my father had agreed that I should go with him to his psych appointment, and they both reluctantly agreed not to go to the police about Paul and Greg until Blaine was okay with it, but I could tell my father had something else on his mind. I didn't mind at all; as long as Blaine's wishes regarding the police were respected, I was all for taking other avenues to deal with those guys.

I heard footsteps on the stairs not long after I had finished discussing the attack with my parents so I quickly excused myself from the kitchen to go check on Blaine. He was still asleep when I came in to the room, so I crawled as quietly and gently as I could onto the bed behind him, curling my body around his. His fingers found and interlocked with mine, pulling my arm so it wrapped further around his warm body. He then snuggled back into my chest, his breathing still deep and even, so I couldn't even tell if he was consciously seeking my comfort or if it came to him instinctively, even in sleep.

I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn't turn off all the thoughts and feelings that were coursing through my head and my heart as I lay there trying to process everything that I had been told in the past few hours.

Blaine had been right, of course. I did now completely understand his reluctance to speak to the police, and the fact that he had once viewed his attacker as someone akin to family only complicated things further... I knew Blaine, and even though he hadn't said it, I knew he still cared about what happened to the Trick family, and he didn't want to further add to their pain. So yeah, I  _understood_ his reasoning, but that didn't mean I agreed with it.

I felt my hand being lifted carefully within Blaine's and it tore me from my reverie. I turned my head to watch him raise my hand gently to his lips, and smiled as he kissed the pad of my thumb, then all four other fingers. He shifted my hand a little, still cupping it gently within his own, and kissed down the length of my thumb from the tip to the fleshy base where it joined to my palm.

I sighed softly against his hair.

"Sorry if I woke you."

He kissed my wrist, leaving a moist spot over a small, lonely freckle I had there.

"You did, but it's okay. I love waking up in your arms."

I smiled at that, pushing a kiss against the back of his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his skin against my lips.

"So, how are you feeling? Are you relieved to have finally gotten all of that off your chest?"

Blaine's lips had travelled the length of my forearm by then, and I actually moaned aloud when his tongue traced up the inside crease of my elbow before his lips closed around it and he sucked lightly at a small patch of skin.

"You know, I do actually. I've had all these secrets for so long... it's nice to share the burden of them with someone."

He seemed to realise what he had said and turned quickly, arm-kisses momentarily forgotten as his serious gaze met mine.

"Not that I want to burden you..."

"You're not burdening me, Blaine."

He rolled his body towards me, following through with his broken arm which he rested against my hip.

"I love you so much, Kurt. Sometimes the intensity of it scares me, because I feel like if I ever lost you, there would just be nothing left of me."

My chest tingled with the passion that I could  _feel_ in his words, my breaths quickening. His eyes; smooth golden brown, flashed with amber lights as they bore into mine, and the only thing I could do to reply to his declaration was to kiss him. I fell against him; his lips parting instantly beneath my urgent, insistent kisses, my arms wrapping around his body to keep him close. Deep and gasping, wet and needy, our lips met again and again. I felt him suck my lower lip between his, drawing it fully into his mouth as he desperately tried to bring me even closer. My chest melted against his so that I could feel his heart pounding against my ribs as I gently battled his tongue, licking across his teeth, revelling in the wet sounds and the soft but urgent moans that emitted from us both.

But all too soon Blaine's fingers were squeezing my hip, my shirt having ridden up as we writhed against each other on the bed, and when I felt his hand slide in to my pants to cup my ass I started to pull back. I wanted to keep going, but I knew that if we did we would only find it harder to stop. I had to keep reminding myself that Blaine wasn't ready for us to move ahead with the physical side of our relationship... he still needed more time to heal.

I pushed him back a little, burrowing my head against his chest and locking my arms around his waist, listening to his pounding heart gradually slow.

I was unprepared however, for my Dad's quiet knock on my door a few minutes later as he popped his head in around the open door.

"Can I come in?" He asked softly, smiling at us where we lay together on the bed. I quickly sat up, pulling Blaine up with me even as I nodded silently, beckoning him in; his eyes focussing on Blaine.

"Kurt told us what happened, kiddo. I have to admit, all this makes a bit more sense now."

My eyes widened in surprise and I shot him a warning glare, but he dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

"I'm not very eloquent, kid, so I'm gonna try and say this as simply as possible. You've lived through hell from the sounds of it, but you are still a damn good kid Blaine, in spite of it all, and you put too much pressure on yourself; and not enough blame where it belongs. All this misplaced guilt and stress over keeping secrets about your past is just gonna eat you alive."

He hesitated for a minute, his eyes flashing from Blaine's to mine, and back again. I could tell how carefully he was trying to be in choosing his words.

"Your young friend, he would have wanted you to be safe, wouldn't he?"

Blaine didn't say anything, but after a few moments he nodded his head. I slid my hand gently down his leg, seeking his own hand that rested there, and he grabbed it immediately. My Dad just watched us carefully, letting his words hang in the air for a good long moment before continuing.

"I've got a lawyer friend who does some Private Investigating work on the side. We know you don't want the Police involved, son, but Andrew could do some quiet digging around on these boys and see what he can find out. No-one will even know he's there, Blaine, he's very discreet. If we do find out anything, we will inform you before we take anything further. Do I have your okay to go ahead?"

I was honestly a little surprised to see Blaine nod up at my father, with very little hesitation.

"Great. I'll go make a call."

I could feel the slight tremble of his fingers beneath mine, but he held my Dad's gaze firmly. Dad gently squeezed his shoulder before turning and walking to the door, but he paused for a moment to look back at us, a gentle smile on his lips.

"You're loved and accepted in this family, Blaine. I just wanted you to know that, because I don't think you've had enough of that in the past couple of years. We're so proud of you, son, and we're going to protect you, okay? You just keep being exactly who you are meant to be. The Hudmels have got your back, right Kurt?"

He winked at me and I grinned back, tightening my grip on Blaine's hand. I didn't miss the smile on his lips either. I got the impression that my father's words had been exactly what Blaine had needed to hear.

"He's right, you know? You have nothing to be ashamed of, Blaine."

He nodded, turning to stare right at me but didn't say a word.

"What?" I prompted. I could tell he wanted to say something. He twisted the sheet in his hands, and I had to try hard not to interrupt his thought process with my worries of what he was doing to the threads in the Egyptian cotton while I waited for him to work through his turmoil and get out what he needed to say. When he did speak, finally, it was slow and soft and hesitant.

"That's what I'm afraid of, Kurt. That when the Tricks find out about all this, they're going to be ashamed... of Luke. I don't want to do that to his memory."

I nearly rolled my eyes, but I stopped myself, forcing my voice to stay calm and quiet. "For what, Blaine? Being gay?"

Blaine just nodded. I sighed.

"But Blaine, there  _is no shame in being gay._  I know you  _know_ that, but you need to start  _believing_ it. If his parents can't see that, or don't want to believe it, then it's sad, sure... but really, what difference does it even make now?"

He shook his head again, now fighting back tears.

"I can't just out him, Kurt. He trusted me."

I pulled him into my arms and held him close, knowing that this conversation was doomed to just keep going around in circles, but still unable to give up without a fight.

"Blaine, sweetheart, Luke is gone. Nothing his parent's say or do can harm him now. Don't you think he would want to be remembered honestly, rather than for something that wasn't true. More importantly, don't you think he would want you to be safe? He wouldn't want his brother to get away with what he has done to you."

Blaine's body trembles had returned suddenly, I could feel them through vibrating down his arm, and I suddenly realised that I had pushed him too far.

It seemed that he had also just come to that same conclusion.

"Kurt stop, I can't talk about this anymore. Please?"

I nodded, quickly pulling him into a tight hug.

"Sorry." I sighed, resting my cheek against his shoulder as I leaned on him.

"I think I need to have a nap before your psych appointment, I'm so tired. Wanna join me?"

His soft smile was all the answer I needed.

-.-.-.-

I woke up just before midday feeling rested and relaxed. Blaine's warm body was pressed in against mine; his head beside mine on my pillow, and I couldn't resist the temptation to wake him with sweet, tender kisses.

He moaned against my mouth, slowly coming awake beneath the tender onslaught of my lips, returning my kisses with a hungry fervour. His hand came up to cup my cheek, and he shifted his body closer still. I melted against him, losing all sense of time and propriety after his mouth left mine and started to suck and nibble at the skin above the pulse-point on my neck. I arched against his body, giving myself over to him, knowing damn well that I probably shouldn't be allowing this but it felt too good for me to stop.

Blaine ghosted his hand down my chest to caress the side of my ribcage with gentle fingers, then gliding down until his fingers slipped just under the waistband of my pyjama pants, lightly stroking my bare hip. I sucked in a breath, lifting my head a little to watch his progress. He glanced up at me, catching me watching him, and raised a perfect triangular eyebrow at me.

His hand slid over my hip and around to cup my ass, drawing me in closer. I was getting hard just at the thought of him touching me, and then he moved, and I could feel his own arousal, warm and firm, pressed against my thigh. He kissed me again, all teeth and tongue and I could feel his hand pressing over the front of my jeans.

"Can I?" he whispered huskily, touching the top of my zipper.

I bit my lip, suppressing the urge to nod. "We shouldn't." I whispered back.

His eyes narrowed. "Why shouldn't we, Kurt? We both want to..."

"You're still recovering, Blaine. I don't want to hurt you..." I trailed off at the look on his face and lowered my eyes from his glare. He gave a loud, frustrated sigh and pushed himself up off the bed, sitting just on its edge with his head in his hands. I scootched over to him and put an arm around his shoulders, but he shrugged it off instantly and stood up, storming across the room to the bathroom.

"Blaine!" I called out to his retreating back, but he didn't turn around... the bathroom door closed loudly behind him.

-.-.-.-

By the time I had finished styling my hair in the bathroom Blaine was dressed and ready to go to his appointment, sitting quietly on my bed just waiting for me. I closed the short distance between us and smiled down at his upturned face.

"You nervous?"

He shrugged, glancing down. He didn't have to say it; I could see it for myself.

"C'mon, I need to show you something."

I reached out a hand to Blaine, who took it without hesitation. The corner of my lip twitched upwards at the blind faith he had in me, and I was comforted to realise that he wasn't still angry with me for what happened in the bedroom earlier.

"What is it?"

He released my hand again, just quickly so that he could adjust the sling on his other arm before pressing his palm back against mine, whilst still following me towards the front door. Here he paused, but not because he didn't trust me. This was only the third time he had been outside the house since the attack, but the only indication of his nervousness was that small pause, and an extra tightening of his fingers around my hand. I watched his face closely as we stepped outside.

"You okay?"

He just nodded, but his jaw looked tight; clenched, and the look of concentration on his face was noticeable. Not intensely so, though. For what I was certain would not be the last time today, it occurred to me that he was improving.

I led him silently towards the small door at the side of the garage, but stopped beside it with my hand resting on the doorknob.

"I think you might be ready to see this now, but please, if it's too much for you to handle, we'll leave. No pressure, okay? Your call."

Blaine nodded. His eyes weren't confused, as I had expected them to be... instead, a small nervous smile played about his lips. I think he knew what I was about to show him. I opened the door, flicked on the light inside and led Blaine through the door.

In the middle of the garage, shining under the bright fluorescent lights was Blaine's Cherry red 59 Chevy, once again in absolutely perfect, mint condition. I glanced up at his face, hoping with all my heart that I was doing the right thing, and that this wouldn't trigger him or cause his memories of the attack to come flooding back to him, but his grin as he stared down at his beloved car was almost blinding.

His hand slipped from my grip as he took a few awed steps forward, reaching out to touch the hood reverently with just his fingertips.

"Oh Kurt..."

His gaze took in everything... but his hand followed immediately afterward, like he actually had to touch it to believe it was real. The windshield was new; I watched Blaine wince momentarily as he touched it, obviously recalling how it looked the last time he had seen it... then his hand slid from there over to the side panels of the car, where only a few weeks ago a certain horrible little word had been scratched heavily into the paint... but no more. My father had buffed out all the scratches, repaired all the dents and repainted the whole car before he had obviously polished it to this high sheen that we were admiring now. Finn had told me how he had helped... with the help of Patches from my Dad's tyre shop, he had masterfully detailed the entire interior of the car, removing every trace of blood and broken glass.

"Kurt" He said again, and this time I turned to face him, smiling at the unshed tears in his eyes.

"You have no idea just how important this car is to me, Kurt, and yet you went to so much trouble... I ... I can't..."

"Well actually, I didn't do a thing, Dad and Finn did all this while I was sitting with you at the hospital. But I know how much you love your car, Blaine..."

He shook his head. "No, you don't get it. This wasn't just my car, Kurt. Luke saw it first, he picked it out for me, and we started working on this car together. I got it for my birthday from my father, and it was going to be mine and Luke's summer project, but after he died I couldn't even look at it for the longest time. It sat there for twelve months untouched, but my dad ended up helping me fix it the following summer. Anyway, I was too scared to ask what you and your dad had done with it, because I was too worried that it might have been written off. But you guys fixed it. I can't even..."

I didn't even realise that I was standing there staring at him, open mouthed and speechless, until he reached for my hand.

"I'm sorry." I stuttered stupidly, suddenly feeling guilty. "I should have told you straight away, but I was worried that it might trigger a bad reaction in you. If I'd known that it would make you so happy, I would have brought you out here weeks ago."

He glanced up at me sheepishly. "I guess I've been kind of hard to predict lately, huh? I'm sorry that I've been so difficult, Kurt."

I shook my head quickly, frowning at him for even suggesting such a thing.

"Don't be ridiculous, Blaine. After what yoummffff..."

I was abruptly cut off by the press of his soft lips against mine, a low moan of pleasure escaping unbidden from around our kiss.

With just his one good arm around my waist, Blaine lifted my body up against his, deepening our kiss, and I felt myself flush at the feel of his warm, tight body pressed into mine. But then, just as quickly he was gone, his attention back on the car, his eyes scanning the interior closely, leaving me swaying on my feet and feeling a little lightheaded from his kiss. Then he spun back to me, his eyes eager and hopeful.

"Do you think we could take it out to my appointment, instead of your Navigator? You'll have to drive it, I can't..." He trailed off, offering up his plaster-cast encased arm as the reason.

I nodded quickly and he bounced on the spot in excitement, which made me laugh.

The visible changes in him today were numerous. His comment earlier about feeling lighter now that a burden had been lifted seemed more factually true than metaphorical, if his behaviour and demeanour were anything to go by. Most were only small changes, nuances mainly, that probably only I would notice about him, but things like this; his excitement and confidence and the return of some of his usual bubbly behaviour were enough to make sigh with contentment.

 _This_ was the Blaine that I knew and loved... and slowly, piece by piece, I was getting him back.

I held the door open for him and he stepped in, sliding straight over along the bench seat to the other side, and I grabbed the remote for the automatic door before I slid in beside him.

I turned the key, and the rich hum of the classic old engine filled the garage. Blaine rested a hand on my leg, and when I turned to meet his gaze he was smiling brightly.

"She needs tuning. Do you want to help me do it later?"

He sounded so hopeful and excited at the prospect of working on his car with me that I had trouble forming the words to reply to him... I just nodded happily, trying to ignore the stupid tears forming in my eyes.

To his credit, if he saw them, he had the diplomacy not to comment.

I pressed a button, and the rollerdoors behind us slid up effortlessly, letting in a stream of fresh air and bright sunlight.

I drove slowly through the town, partially because I was unfamiliar with driving a stick shift again after the auto of my Navigator, but mostly because Blaine seemed to be enjoying this so much that I didn't see the point in rushing the experience for him, and we still had plenty of time before his appointment. At first he had sat right beside me on the bench seat, shrinking a little from everything surrounding us. It was amazing what a difference a few foot in height made... sitting low in the Chevy certainly made us both feel more on display, more vulnerable than we did sitting up high above all the other traffic in my Navigator. Down here people could see us, and I think Blaine was a little intimidated by it ... even I was, to a degree... I knew that people could see us sitting close together in the front seat, and I was usually much more careful than this about PDA with Blaine, just in case we angered the wrong people with our love. Once we got out onto the main roads, Blaine slid over closer to his window and spent the rest of the ride just gazing out at the world, seemingly lost in thought.

It wasn't until we turned into the parking lot of the Psychiatric Clinic on Turner Street that Blaine finally turned back to me, and I saw the tear tracks down his face. I shut off the engine quickly and undid my seatbelt, sliding towards him to pull him into my arms.

"Hey, what's this?"

He just shook his head, wiping at his tears with his sleeve as he leaned in to rest his head against my chest.

"You're okay Blaine, I'll stay with you the whole time, I promise."

I reached around him, trying to lift his chin up so he would meet my eyes.

He shook his head again.

"No, it's not that. It's just everything Kurt. The way you love me; your amazing Dad who accepts you no matter what; fixing my car. Your family has done so much for me, but my own family don't give a shit. How did that even happen?"

I shook my head. "They don't deserve you..."

He cut me off quickly. "They hate me, Kurt. They call themselves Christians, but Christ himself is all about love, yet they condemn me for loving someone. You tell me Kurt, who is more wrong? Me, for loving, or them for hating?"

I levelled a soft, sympathetic stare at him, holding his troubled gaze for a long while before answering softly.

"You already know the answer to that."

His lips twitched up at the corners from my reply, and he leaned in to place a chaste kiss against the corner of my mouth.

"I thought God had turned his back on me, but then he went and gave me you guys. I know for sure now that he still loves me, or he wouldn't have guided me to you."

I honestly didn't know what to say. Blaine had never spoken to me before about God, but he already knew my opinions on the subject, and I hadn't even considered that he still believed in any of it anymore, not after what his parents had done to him in the name of their religion. I was suddenly confused.

"I didn't think you believed in God anymore?"

He laughed a little. "I still believe in God, Kurt. The thing that I have lost faith in is religion. It's funny that I've only really just realised that there is a difference between the two."

He linked his fingers through mine, and raised our hands up to his lips to press a soft kiss to the back of my hand. He gestured toward the building in front of us.

"So, you'll stay with me?"

I traced a finger down his cheek.

"Of course I will. You ready?"

He shot me a grimace.

"As I'll ever be."

-.-.-


	17. Chapter 17

Things settled down over the next few weeks as Blaine and I settled into a routine of school, study and doctors appointments. I had promised my Dad that I wouldn't miss any more school, so we were sure to make all of Blaine's appointments in the afternoons so that I could still go with him. He was beginning to adjust to spending his days with Carole without me; although he would still wait for me every day at the door until I got home. On the days that he didn't have appointments, we would spend each afternoon together either out in the garage, tinkering with the Chevy, or in the kitchen helping Carole prepare dinner. Blaine had never really been taught how to cook, but he clearly had a passion for it and was a quick learner, so I was thoroughly enjoying teaching him a few of my favourite dishes.

I had stopped going to the after school Glee meetings, for as much as it upset me to miss them, it was an extra two hours that I was away from Blaine, and I just couldn't do that to him right now. He needed me. Like today, for instance; his appointment at the hospital to get his cast removed from his arm was scheduled for straight after school, and there was no way I was going to miss that just to go to Glee club.

Doctor Salling had greeted us with a beaming smile and a warm squeeze of my shoulder as he ushered us into his office. Blaine had stayed close to my side the entire time, but he was clearly coping with everything so much better now than he had been on our last visit, and I knew that Doctor Salling would be able to see the differences in him. He checked Blaine over thoroughly; examining every wound and listening closely to Blaine's lungs and heart. He tested Blaine's reflexes and nerves and reaction times; and surprisingly Blaine just sat there and let it all happen. He wasn't trembling or crying, or flinching away from the doctor's touch, and I had to admit I was impressed. Eventually the doctor sat him down and cut the cast off his arm with a small power-saw, which actually scared the crap out of me, but Blaine just sat there and watched with rapt interest. He even smiled gratefully at the doctor once the blue cast had finally been removed from his arm, raising the limb into the air and flexing his fingers with awe.

The doctor felt all up and down the arm, pressing gently and asking Blaine if it pained him, to which he responded with a shake of his head. He seemed satisfied, but still sent us down the hall for new arm and chest x-rays, just to make sure he had healed properly. When we were finished, nearly an hour later, we strolled the length of the hospital, hand in hand, back up to Dr Salling's office, the films clutched in Blaine's free hand.

The doctor was satisfied that the bone had mended properly, and with a wink at me and a pat on the back, excused us from his office, asking us to return in another two weeks for another check of the cuts on his wrist. They were the only thing now that he was still concerned about. Of course, there had been that embarrassing moment when he had asked Blaine about erectile function, trying to determine if he had suffered any nerve damage in his groin as a result of the stab wounds. Blaine averted his eyes and flatly refused to even acknowledge the question. I managed to mumble out a muffled 'We don't really know yet', stumbling nervously over my words and blushing a deep red. Doctor Salling just nodded, quickly moving on with his questions. Blaine had answered most of them himself... not verbally, of course, but with shakes and shrugs and nods of his head. It still amazed me a little bit how responsive he was now; how well he managed to communicate with people, even without using words.

His progress was coming in leaps and bounds now. It wasn't just about little breakthroughs in his condition any more, there were now too many of them in any given day to even count or keep track of. My Blaine was back. His confidence was growing steadily, and every day I would eagerly fly home from school to be with him, and catch up on what I had missed out on while I had been at school.

So yeah, I wasn't missing not going to Glee practice; I had something much more exciting and fulfilling to do with my afternoons. Just watching my beautiful boy recovering his old equilibrium was all I needed to keep me happy. I wasn't trying to keep information from him, but I hadn't exactly been forthcoming about it either, so when Finn mentioned what I had missed that week in Glee over the dinner table the following night, at our Friday night dinner, Blaine dropped his fork to his plate with a loud clatter and stared at me, mouth open in shock.

Finn, oblivious to the turmoil he had just created, just kept on talking about their assignment for this week, while Blaine just watched me, his face sad.

My Dad and Carole knew why I had temporarily quit Glee, and while neither of them had been thrilled with the idea, they both understood that it was necessary so that I could still be there for Blaine. It was a sacrifice I had been willing to make for my boy... but I knew that he would be the one that would protest the most about it, so I hadn't been eager to tell him. But from the look on his face now, I knew that had been a mistake. He looked hurt that I had kept it from him. I slid my hand across into his lap under the table to try to entwine my fingers with his, but he snatched his hand away angrily, glaring at me.

"I don't want you to miss out on anything because of me, Kurt. It's the one thing you truly love about going to that school, why would you want to give that up?"

His words were serious, he was clearly upset, and yet all I wanted to do in that moment was grin. I could feel my lips twitching up, and I ducked my head to hide my smile.

Finn was the first to react.

"Dude, you just spo..."

My father's hand quickly came down on top of Finn's on the table, silencing him with a subtle shake of his head. Carole was just beaming.

Blaine though, he just sat there, oblivious to his breakthrough; staring at me disapprovingly and just waiting for his answer.

I turned to him, all traces of my pride and amusement gone from my voice and face as I addressed his concern.

"Blaine, it's okay. It's not forever, it's just while you still need me to come with you to appointments."

He shook his head. "I don't want you missing out on the one thing that makes you happy so that you can take care of me, Kurt. It's not fair on you."

I reached out and caught his hand this time, holding it tight to my chest as I spoke.

"Okay, for starters, Glee Club isn't the 'only' thing that makes me happy Blaine. If I was going to list the things that made me happiest, spending time with you would be number one with a bullet. Secondly, I have to go to school each day and leave you for hours at a time; I only get a few hours a day with you now, and trust me, the time I spend with you is much more important to me than the time I spend swaying in the background behind Rachel  _not_ getting solos."

I stroked his hand gently, just holding his gaze as it softened from angered to grateful acceptance, and only then did I let my lips curl up into a smile.

"Do you even realise what you just did?" I asked softly.

His eyebrows crinkled in confusion and he started to shake his head, then a sudden comprehension dawned in his eyes and his head shot up, startled as he glanced nervously around the table. Carole, my father and Finn all sat quietly, staring back at him, Carole with the barest hint of tears in her eyes.

Finn just grinned at him, not even trying to play it cool.

"It's good to hear your voice again man. So does this mean you're going to start bouncing around again and singing all the time like you used to?"

Blaine's face cracked into a sheepish smile, even though he refused to meet Finn's eyes and I could feel a faint tremor in his hand as it clenched inside mine.

He just shrugged, but I saw it for what it was. His shield was gradually coming down.

-.-.-.-

Another weekend passed too quickly, and before I knew it Monday morning was upon us and I was preparing for a new day back at McKinley for the start of my third week of being a Senior. Blaine didn't make the mornings easy on me. He liked to lie in my bed, cozy and warm and grinning lazily at me as I dressed and got ready for school, reaching out to me whenever I passed within arms reach to try and entice me back into the bed for more cuddles. Needless to say, getting out the door on time in the mornings had become almost impossible, but for some reason I couldn't really bring myself to care.

Over the past few weeks, since that day that he stormed out on me in frustration, we'd been letting ourselves get a little bolder with how and where we touched each other when we were alone. Even just a simple make out session now seemed to get really heated, very quickly. His psych had told him that it was natural for him to need to see if his body was still able to react to arousal that way that it should, and Blaine had basically taken that as permission to stop holding himself back, and to his relief had quickly realised that everything still worked. That didn't stop us from wanting to keep testing though. Things that we had only ever done before through clothing were not surprisingly so much nicer skin to skin, and we were both eager to learn what else we could do to make each other moan.

Blaine's psych appointment was booked for this afternoon. This would be his fourth one, he had been meeting with Ms Rae Davies (yes, Psych 'Ray Davies' was in fact a woman, but I'll tell you about that later) twice a week so far, and found that he quite enjoyed her company, even though they didn't talk. He was even content to go to see her by himself, which I found unbelievable, but I wasn't going to argue with it. Carole dropped him off there and walked him in, waiting with him in the small waiting room until he was called in, and I would pick him up straight after school. I had to go inside to collect him though; he still wouldn't walk out to meet me by himself. That was one thing that hadn't changed... the outside world still terrified him. He had certain places that he felt safe to be, and I was relieved that his psych's office had become one of those places, but out in public alone  _anywhere_  was not one of them.

I had rushed out of school as soon as the final bell rung so as not to be late to pick up Blaine, but in doing so I'd had to blow off Mercedes request to meet me at her locker. I'd sent her an apology text, simply stating that I didn't have time, but when we got back to the car I noticed three missed calls, so I sat beside a happily contemplative Blaine and listened to the voicemail that I had received. It was Mercedes, practically demanding that Blaine and I come by the school after his appointment to pick up the work that I had missed for that day. School was over for the day, and I knew that my friends would all be at Glee afternoon meeting right now. Blaine seemed to be in a good mood, and I knew the school would be otherwise mostly empty except for the football players and the cheerleaders, so I turned my car back in the direction of McKinley High.

"Babe? Do you want to go straight home, or can we make a detour?"

"Where to?"

I met his gaze with a smile. "Cedes wants me to come to Glee today..."

"Oh, okay, just drop me back off home..."

"...but I told her I'll only go if you'll come with me."

His grin was quickly replaced with a look of fear, but I just sat there and watched him quietly fight a war inside his head. I knew I was being manipulative... I didn't care. This would help him, if he let it; he just needed a little push.

"How brave are you feeling? There's a few people who would love to see you, and I promise you we'd be safe the whole time. Finns there, I could get him to meet us in the parking lot and walk us to the choir room, if you'd like?"

Blaine shook his head quickly. "No, no. I don't need Finn, you're the one who makes me feel safe."

I smiled at that, still holding his intense gaze as he silently pleaded with me to understand. But I already understood his fear, and his anxiety, and I wasn't going to let them hold him back any more. He could do this, I knew it. He knew it too.

"Okay."

-.-.-

When we pulled into the parking lot at McKinley I deliberately parked as far away from the school as I could get, then killed the engine and just sat there, my fingers entwined with Blaine's. He was breathing a little heavily and he couldn't seem to tear his eyes off the couple of cheerleaders that were standing by a car on the other side of the lot, but at least he wasn't trembling.

"Are you sure you're okay with this? We don't have to, Blaine; I'm not forcing you..."

He shook his head quickly.

"No, I'm okay. Just... please don't let go of me?"

I squeezed his fingers reassuringly, then released them, climbing down out of the car and walking around to his side, opening the door for him. He took my hand again, but made no move to get out of the car. I just stood, waiting, watching him take deep calming breaths, psyching himself up for what he was about to do.

Eventually he turned to me, his face pale but determined.

"I'm ready."

We walked slowly, hand in hand across the lot and through the side doors beside the auditorium. The corridor was darkened, which if anything seemed to make him feel more confident to move freely, and we had nearly made it all the way to the choir room before I even heard any other voices ring through the hallway. But when I did, I felt a shiver go up my spine. It was the one voice I was dreading.

I sped up a little, dragging Blaine along a little faster with me, knowing we could make it to where our friends were before the jocks caught up with us, if we had to, and just hoping that Azimio and his buddies wouldn't recognise me from so far away.

I'd never run from my bullies before (transferring to Dalton doesn't count), but I wouldn't even hesitate to do it now. With Blaine here, the game changed. I had to keep him safe, and with what sounded like 4 football players in the hall behind us, there was no way I could protect him from them by myself. Even if their intention was only to slushie us, it would still terrify and unsettle Blaine, and tear down the thin layer he had started to grow back of trust in his surroundings, and in other people. I wouldn't let them destroy that. We'd worked too hard for these Neanderthals to shatter it in a matter of seconds.

"Hey Kurt, wait up."

I turned then, confused, and tried to focus my eyes on the face of the guy now moving towards us, his friends still watching from beside the locker room doors. The letterman jacket confused me for a minute, then his face came into view. I sighed, exhaling the breath I hadn't even realised I was holding.

"Puck. Dammit, you scared me."

He grinned as he approached, patting me heavily on the back as he fell into step with us.

"Gym ran late, the guys and I were tossing the ball around and ignored the final bell, so I'm late for Glee. It won't look so bad if I walk in there with you guys."

I just nodded in agreement, still reeling a little from my unfounded fear. I glanced back over my shoulder once, but the three other guys were walking in the other direction. Huh. Nothing to worry about.

Blaine's fingers tightened in mine, and I glanced up at him.

I could tell by the look on his face that he hadn't missed a second of that. He wouldn't have known Azimio's voice or why I was scared of him, but he had felt my fear, seen my response to it, and had clearly been just as relieved by Pucks arrival as I had been.

"Are you okay?" I mouthed to him. He nodded quickly, then raised an eyebrow questioningly and nodded his head toward me, silently returning the question. I nodded back. Puck walked on beside us, oblivious to our silent conversation.

As we stepped into the room it erupted in cheers and applause. Blaine froze for a moment, startled by the sudden noise, and I could just tell that he was scanning the room for any signs of a threat, but when he found none he started to relax a little, and let me drag him over to the seats.

I had warned Mercedes in my text not to crowd Blaine, and had asked her to pass the message along, but apparently no one had listened, and I watched Blaine's face closely as our friends gathered around him, smiling and shaking his hand and patting his back; Santana even pulled him into a tight hug and spun him in a circle before releasing him, but to my surprise Blaine didn't seem worried or scared. He was grinning from ear to ear.

Eventually Rachel took charge, as always, and guided Blaine and I over to our seats. I couldn't even pretend to be surprised when she announced that they had prepared a song for us.

"Kurt. Blaine. We know you guys have been through a lot lately, and we just wanted to show you both that we're thinking of you, and we're all here for you, if you need us. This song is for both of you, from all of us. We love you guys."

I felt my heart lurch in my chest at Rachel's words, and Blaine's hands tightened around mine. He was smiling up at Rachel. She put a hand to her chest to rest on her heart as she met his gaze with a sympathetic, comforting smile.

They quickly arranged a dozen or so stools in a loose semi-circle, with Blaine and I directly in the centre, and everyone took a seat even as one of the band guys started up a slow tune on an acoustic guitar. I didn't recognise the tune straight away, but one glance at Blaine's smiling face told me that he did.

Then Finn started to sing.

" _When you're down, and troubled, and you need a helping hand, and nothing, oohhh nothing is going right..."_

Rachel was next, her voice trembling a little as she sang.

" _Close your eyes and think of me, and soon I will be there, to brighten up even your darkest nights."_

Next came Artie's sweet, strong voice, and Blaine and I both turned to watch him sing from where he was sitting in his chair, at the end of the row of stools, beside Tina.

" _You just call out my name, and you know where ever I am, I'll come running to see you again."_

Mercedes started swaying as she sang the next line, and soon everybody was swaying along in time with the guitar.

" _Winter, spring, summer, or fall, all you have to do is call and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, you've got a friend."_

I let my eyes wander slowly up the line of my dearest friends, and I just couldn't keep the grin from creeping right across my face. These people truly cared about Blaine and I, and they really did mean every single word they were singing. They really would do anything for us, if we needed it. Any one of them would.

Santana's soulful tones tore me from my musings, and I focussed on her as she sang.

_If the sky above you should turn dark and full of clouds, and that old north wind should begin to blow,_

Then it was Puck's turn.

_Keep your head together and call my name out loud. Soon I will be knocking upon your door._

Puck's words gave me shivers as I was reminded of a certain day when he didn't just knock, but actually broke a door down to get to Blaine, to make sure he was alright.

Mike's voice surprised me... he had always told us all that he couldn't sing, and had only ever once performed for us using his voice, and even that hadn't showcased his talents in the way that he was doing now. I was impressed. He was much better than he had ever let on.

_You just call out my name, and you know where ever I am, I'll come running to see you again._

Brittany's light, high voice took from Mike's right around the same time that Blaine leant to rest his head on my shoulder, swaying both of our bodies together in time with the rest of the groups.

_Winter, spring, summer, or fall, all you have to do is call and I'll be there._

I glanced up into Tina's beautiful face when she started to sing next, thrilling as the haunting beauty of her voice filled the room.

_Hey, ain't it good to know that you've got a friend? People can be so cold._ _  
_ _They'll hurt you and desert you. Well, they'll take your soul if you let them. Oh yeah, but don't you let them._

Quinn took over from Tina, but by this time I was only able to watch through a filter of tears, my eyes pooling with them from all the emotion my amazing friends were pouring into this song.

_You just call out my name, and you know where ever I am, I'll come running to see you again._

All of the guys' voices blended together in a perfect melody as they built up to the finale...

_Winter, spring, summer, or fall, all you have to do is call, Lord, I'll be there, yeah, yeah, you've got a friend. You've got a friend._

But then an all girl harmony finished the song off, with Rachel singing the last line by herself.

_Ain't it good to know you've got a friend. Ain't it good to know you've got a friend. Oh, yeah, yeah, you've got a friend._

Blaine and I both stood to give them all a standing ovation; Blaine shamelessly wiping his eyes with his sleeves to rid them of tears as he accepted hugs from everyone. I kept just one hand resting on the small of his back, but I'm not sure if he even noticed.

I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, and turned my attention just slightly away from Blaine to watch Puck walk back over towards the band guys and pick up a guitar, then resume his seat on a stool near the centre of the semi-circle. No-one else noticed him until he strummed a chord. When he realised that he had everyone's attention he cleared his throat.

"When Rachel told us we had to learn the words to 'You've got a friend', I googled it, and I came up with a different song. I know Blaine kinda likes Disney movies, and I remembered this song from all the times my little sister and I watched Toy Story together, so I thought it kinda fit, so I'd like to play it for you guys right now, if you don't mind. It's also kind of an apology to you both for going behind your backs to talk to Kurt's dad a couple of weeks ago. I was just worried, ya know? Anyway, here goes."

He struck up a simple tune, a cheeky smirk gracing his face as he began to sing with a little growl in his voice.

_You've got a friend in me. You've got a friend in me_   
_When the road looks rough ahead and you're miles and miles from your nice warm bed_   
_Just remember what your old pal said boy, you've got a friend in me_

_You've got a friend in me. You've got a friend in me_   
_You've got troubles, well I've got 'em too. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you_   
_We stick together and we see it through boy, you've got a friend in me_

_Some other folks might be a little bit smarter than I am, bigger and stronger too_   
_But none of them will ever love you the way I do. It's me and you boys._   
_And as the years go by our friendship will never die_   
_You're gonna see it's our destiny_   
_You've got a friend in me. You've got a friend in me_   
_You've got a friend in me_

He finished with a little flourish of the guitar and a bow, to a room full of laughter and applause. I watched on as Blaine pulled his hand free from mine and took a few steps into the centre of the room to hug Puck. He almost made it, but at the last second he realised what he was doing and suddenly froze, spinning back around in a panic. I quickly rose from my seat and met him halfway, wrapping an arm around his waist and gently turning him back around to face Puck.

By the end of the hour though, he was definitely more relaxed and was settling in to the group. He stayed by my side, but was definitely enjoying watching the rest of New Directions practicing their vocals and working through some dance steps to a new song that they were trying to put together for sectionals. He tapped his foot along to the music and I even caught him mouthing the lyrics at one point, but when he saw me watching him he blushed deep red and his lips went still, pressing his body closer against my side for comfort. He didn't seem to mind at all though when Mercedes came and sat close beside him. She chatted easily for a few minutes about the song choices for sectionals, asking our opinions, and then suggested that we both come back again tomorrow afternoon, together.

I smiled eagerly, instantly grateful to Mercedes for suggesting it, and patiently watched my boy as he worked through his emotions. His mouth opened and closed, his face tensed and his cheeks burned red as he dropped his head briefly to stare at the ground, but after a few moments he nodded.

And as simple as that, Blaine had agreed to start being around other people again, socially.

I was half expecting Rachel to jack up and refuse to let him stay on the grounds that he was still officially a Warbler, but her tight lipped glare in our direction seemed to dissolve when she realised how happy Blaine was, and I think her humanity for once outweighed her usual apparent need to be unnecessarily protective of our group, so she stayed silent. I would talk to her later though, just to reassure her that Blaine was no threat, not to New Directions, and not to her time in the spotlight. Getting him to come to practice was one thing, but I knew that getting him to sing in front of a group of 13 other people was going to be whole other ball game.

Personally, I was just thrilled that Blaine was accepting music back in to his life again. I knew that if there was anything in the world that would help him to heal, this was it.

-.-.-

We got home late and ate with the family, then disappeared upstairs together as soon as it was polite to leave the table, as we had been doing most nights for the past few weeks. We studied together, laying side by side on my bed; Blaine working on some calculus worksheets Carole had downloaded for him while I wrote an essay for my modern history class, then when he'd finished he left me to my work while he went for a shower.

Only a few minutes later though, I heard him call my name. The shower was still running, and as I approached the slightly ajar door I could make out the muted tones of Blaine's skin through the fogged glass. I felt myself blush a little, even as a thrill buzzed through my skin at the thought of him naked. For all of our recent experimenting and bold exploration of each other's bodies, we still hadn't quite gone that far. Yet.

"Kurt, I left my bodywash on the counter, can you get it for me?"

I pushed the door open and went right, grabbing the bottle with one hand and blindly reaching out towards the shower with it while carefully averting my gaze.

The shower door opened and I felt him touch the bottle, but his hand slipped past it to grip my wrist, pulling me closer. I could feel the fine mist spattering against my skin, but there was something irresistible about a dripping wet Blaine that I just couldn't deny.

I gasped as his wet lips touched mine, the heat of his warm skin and scent of his shampoo surrounding me like a soft cloud as I sank into the kiss, but I couldn't help the aroused, high pitched squeak that escaped my throat as he pulled me closer still and whispered against my lips...

"Will you wash my back?"

I hesitated, blushing hard as I met his dark eyes, desperately determined to not let myself look down.

"But my clothes will get all wet..."

He grinned, that cheeky, sexy smirk that I loved so damn much and pulled me in for another quick kiss before whispering against my lips.

"So take them off..."

-.-.-.-


	18. Chapter 18

I could feel a smile picking at the corners of my mouth as I considered his suggestion. His cheeky grin softened a little and his eyes sparkled mischievously as he kissed me lightly one more time. When he broke the kiss and pulled away I just held his gaze as I lifted the hem of my shirt, sliding it up my body and over my head in one fluid movement.

His smile faltered and I watched his Adam's apple bob in this throat, his breath catching when he realised I was going to do it.

"Kurt, I was half joking love, I'm not pushing..."

I shook my head quickly, smirking up at him as I undid my belt buckle.

"You're not pushing anything Blaine." I said with a mock-innocent smirk. "I'm only washing your back, right?"

He grinned. "Yeah, sure... right."

He winked at me, and I laughed as I playfully pushed him back into the shower cubicle. He stayed facing away from me, I assume to allow me a little privacy as I shed my clothes and folded them neatly, stacking them on the side of the tub. I briefly debated whether to leave my boxer-briefs on, but I figured if I was going to see all of Blaine then he deserved to get to see all of me too. I was trembling a little, but I honestly think I was more excited than I was nervous. I took a breath and held it as I opened the glass shower door.

Blaine turned immediately, his eyes soft and smiling. He reached out for me and I took his hand, stepping in beside him and closing the door.

His arms wrapped around my waist loosely in a gentle embrace, and I noticed for the first time that he was trembling too.

"Hey, you okay?"

I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, my hand running down the length of his upper arm over his goose bumps. His hazel eyes shone back at me and he just nodded.

"I'm great, this is just... even when I suggested it I didn't expect this. This is kind of huge..."

I grinned back at him, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well I knew it was a little on the larger side, but no-one's ever told me it's huge before."

Blaine's eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as a bright blush crept up his cheeks. I just laughed.

"Sweet baby Jesus, Kurt, I can't believe you just said that." He shook his head at me, which only made me laugh harder, but my joke had the desired effect, he was no longer trembling. I reached up with both hands to hug him, trailing my fingers along his shoulders and playing with the curls at the nape of his neck as my thumbs traced his jaw line.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist. But seriously, it's just us Blaine. It's just you and me. I trust you with my life, so why not my body?"

He brought his hand up to rest on my chest, directly over my heart, as he gazed into my eyes.

"My thoughts exactly."

His other hand moved to rest possessively on my hip as his gaze raked my body hungrily.

"God, Kurt." He swallowed thickly, seeming to struggle for words. "You're so beautiful..."

Our wet bodies slid together as we kissed, and I gasped against his open mouth at the feel of his arousal against mine.

When he pulled back a little for air, I took a step back from him, bit my lip and let myself look down.

I knew from all our over-the-clothes touching that he was big, but it was even thicker around the base than I had realised, slightly darker than the rest of his body... and maybe not quite as long as mine. I wanted to touch it; I reached out my hand, but lost my nerve at the last moment and caught hold of his hip instead, pulling him back against me again. We both gasped this time as our cocks slid together.

Blaine pushed me backwards a little til my back hit the tiles, then stepped in between my legs to press himself against me hard, our teeth clashing as we kissed and nipped and moaned, the feel of our cocks gliding and thrusting against each other just egging us on.

I think it took me a while to register that Blaine was actually mumbling words against my skin after his mouth had left mine to nip and suck his way across my jaw and down my neck, but even then I couldn't make out exactly what he was saying, and I was too far gone to focus. I caught 'beautiful' and 'love you so much' and 'everything to me'. I felt dizzy.

His hands stroked all over my body as we kissed, squeezing and cupping and caressing every inch of my bare skin from my hips up to my neck, where he would cradle them both around the back of my head and hold me to him while he explored my mouth deeply with his tongue, making me moan and cry and worry that my knees would buckle.

Then they actually did buckle, just for a fraction of a second, as his hand slid down my belly and between our bodies to wrap delicately around my erection.

"Fuck. ... urghhh Blaine. Fuck."

My eyes rolled back in my head and I sagged against the wall as every nerve ending in my whole body suddenly seemed to start and end beneath the gentle sliding grip of Blaine's fingers.

Blaine's mouth returned to my neck, sucking and nibbling and then laving his tongue over the area to soothe it, and the thought that he was marking me made me tingle. I could feel myself getting close and I pushed off the wall, wrapping my arms around Blaine's neck and resting my forehead on his shoulder as I came hard against his belly. Shudders wracked my body as I slumped against him, and he stroked my back gently to soothe me as I came down from my high.

His lips found mine in the softest kiss, and as my senses finally started to return to me I realised how one sided that had been. I slid my hand down his back, sliding over the smooth tight muscles and down to the angular jut of his hip, following the shape of the bone until my hand was between us, then boldly wrapped my fingers gently around his cock,  _needing_  to give him the same kind of pleasure as he had just given me.

He keened, long and low in his throat, which I took for encouragement, and began to move my hand slowly, stroking and squeezing him, his cock heavy and straining in my hand.

"Oh Kurrrrrt"

He was practically purring as he reached up with both hands to cup my face, pulling me back into a long kiss, which he broke away from occasionally to moan into my open mouth or cry out my name. I could feel him weakening, I knew he was getting close; his kisses got lazy and his knees sagged and he leaned back against the wall, looking down, watching my hand pumping his cock.

"Fuck that is hot..."

I agreed, but I wasn't watching what I was doing to his body. I was watching his face. His eyes had darkened with lust, his jaw clenched and he moaned brokenly as he came over my hand. I did glance down sporadically though, as curiosity got the better of me, and I watched as a final stream of white pumped out of him and was quickly washed away by the steaming water.

His arms snaked around my ribs and he pulled me against him, kissing me softly as his body trembled. I could see that goose bumps had risen on his arms and I knew that they weren't from the cold tile, it was from me. He held me like that until the water started to cool, and only then did I remember why I had come in to the bathroom in the first place. I chuckled against his neck before I pulled away.

"We got distracted. I didn't even wash your back."

He laughed, his head dropping forward, then raising it again to wink at me.

"Maybe next time."

It might sound weird, but I felt proud of myself for having been able to do this; for so long now I'd worried that when we got to this stage my inexperience and reluctance to research anything on the matter would shine through, and Blaine would be the one to carry us forward with me flailing like a baby penguin in his wake. I was relieved, however, to see that we were pretty much on the same page... at least, so far anyway.

I shut off the water and stepped out onto the mat, bending to grab a thick fluffy towel each for us from the shelf under the sink, and as I turned back I caught Blaine staring unashamedly at my naked ass. He just grinned at me when I caught him, not even attempting to hide his admiration, and took the towel I handed him and wrapped it around my shoulders, pulling it tightly around my body, all the while just staring at me hungrily. He didn't say a word, but there was so much going on behind his eyes that it made me quiver with excitement about what tonight was going to bring.

Before we could go any further though, I knew I had to go and speak to my Dad. As I had been standing under the cooling shower water with Blaine, my mind kept creeping to the conversation I'd had several weeks ago with my father, when I had promised him that Blaine and I sharing my room wasn't going to lead to any sexual activity. I couldn't help but feel like I had just betrayed his trust in me, and as much as I was dying to jump into bed with Blaine and continue what we had started, I couldn't in good conscience do that without first having a very awkward conversation with my Dad.

I explained this to Blaine, who of course apologised profusely for disrespecting my father, and suggested we go downstairs immediately and talk to him. He didn't want me to face my father's possible anger alone, for which I was grateful, but I was sure that in this situation my Dad would cope better just one on one. I needed to speak to him alone.

-.-.-.-

I padded softly down the stairs on bare feet, and followed the sounds of the television into the den. My Dad was in there alone, reading the paper. He glanced up as he heard me enter the room.

"Hey kiddo. Did you get your essay finished?"

I nodded, hesitating near the door, pretending the scan the titles on the bookshelf, but not actually seeing a thing.

"Dad, can I talk to you about something?"

He glanced up at me again, giving me a quick once over before folding his paper in half and laying it down beside him on the sofa and beckoning with his head for me to come over to the couch, beside him. I knew I was probably blushing with embarrassment: that and the fact that I couldn't stop myself from wringing my hands together were a dead giveaway that I was nervous about this, which in turn I think put his defences up a little, but he just sat patiently and waited for me to speak.

"I respect you, Dad, you know that, right?"

He narrowed his gaze a little, and I quickly tore my eyes from his to stare down at my blue silk pyjama pants.

"Right?" He replied, but his tone was questioning.

"And Blaine and I are both so grateful to you for everything you have done for him; we would never want you to feel like we were taking advantage of your generosity..."

I'd finally looked up long enough to notice his stern glare, and immediately fell silent.

"Kurt, just spit it out..."

I swallowed audibly, trying to work up the courage to continue. I was kind of wishing that I had let Blaine face my Dad with me, just for moral support. His presence gave me strength; or rather, courage. I held on to that word, letting it swim in my mind, hearing it in Blaine's voice in my mind. It worked.

"Well, remember when Blaine first moved in here and I promised you that I wouldn't let anything  _inappropriate_ happen under your roof..."

I trailed off to nothing when he raised his hand to silence me and his eyes drifted closed. I just sat, watching him.

He drew a deep breath and turned himself a little on the couch til he was facing me properly.

"I've been wondering when you would come to me about this."

I cocked my head a little to the side, questioningly. He smiled.

"You're a good kid, Kurt. You're moral and responsible, and as loyal as hell. I knew you would come and talk to me when you were ready for the rules to change."

I opened my mouth, a little shocked that he was so calm, but closed it again without a word. He sighed deeply again.

"Kurt, do you remember what I said to you the day we had that sex talk, when I gave you the pamphlets?"

I wracked my brain; what I mostly remembered was my embarrassment... "Yeah, umm, not word for word but it was like..."

"You matter, Kurt. I said that when you found the person who you were meant to be with, who treated you right and who cherished you for all the special things that make up who you are, then I want you to be able to have everything with that person. Do you remember me saying that?"

I just nodded. My head was beginning to spin at the way this conversation was going. I was expecting some resistance, maybe even a little anger or a firm demand that Blaine start using his own bedroom now that he was getting better, but this totally caught me by surprise. I just stood there stupidly beaming at him as he said the words.

"Do you think that I can't see that you are all of that to Blaine? I've known this was coming for a long time now Kurt, and while I still think you are both way too young for this, there is no denying how real your feelings for each other are. I'm not going to stop you, okay? If you want to talk to me about the details, or if there's anything that wasn't covered in those pamphlets, you can talk to me..."

I quickly shook my head, blushing deep red at the thought. He looked rather relieved that I had refused his offer, and his lip curled into a tiny smile as he continued.

"...But otherwise, your room is yours. You're almost 18 Kurt, your relationship is none of my business, and you and Blaine have both earned the right to some privacy. I can't keep you wrapped up in cotton wool forever, no matter how much I would like to."

I threw myself forward quickly, diving across the gap between us to wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you, Dad. I love you."

He squeezed me back, holding me much longer than he needed to. "Love you too, kiddo. Now go tell Blaine, I just know he's sitting up there waiting for you."

I just laughed in response, because yes, he was doing exactly that.

-.-.-.-

He was sitting at my desk when I went back upstairs, rolling the bottle of vitamin E oil capsules between his hands nervously. I closed the door quietly, then for the first time since Blaine had come to live in our house, slid the bolt across, locking the door behind me. I turned to meet his questioning stare with a grin. The gorgeous smirk that I loved so much on him crept across his face.

"So I take it it went well then?"

I didn't reply immediately, instead crossing the room to stand between his knees, my arms looped loosely around his shoulders as he stared up at me. I pressed my lips to his, sighing softly and melting in to the kiss when he angled his head to deepen it. His hands caressed my back, sliding under my shirt and across my warm skin as they travelled up my back and across my ribs, then back down, dipping under the elastic waistband of my silk pyjama pants to palm my ass, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh. I was already starting to grow hard just from the sensual way he was touching my skin.

I drew him to his feet, my hands going automatically to the ties on his robe, which he had kept on rather than getting dressed so I could apply the oil, like we did every night. I took the bottle from the desk and sat down in the chair, and Blaine reached across me to remove a pin from the board to split the capsule with, handing it carefully to me, then he stood back just a step and shrugged out of the robe, draping it over the back of the chair, leaving him only in his black boxer-briefs. I let my eyes travel over the soft planes of his body for a few moments, losing myself in fantasy, until his hand gently fell to my shoulder, drawing my attention back to his face.

"So what did your Dad say?"

I smiled up at him. "He said that we obviously love each other, and we're old enough to make our own decisions, and that what we do together is none of his business."

He laughed softly, his eyes widened in amazement.

"What? He really said that?"

I nodded. He shook his head in disbelief.

"That's... wow. He is unbelievable. Just... wow. Your father is the most awesome parent I've ever met, Kurt."

I grinned up at him.

"Yeah, he is pretty amazing. I guess I just got lucky."

I didn't miss the quick flash of sadness in his eyes at that, and I quickly split the capsule to attempt to change the subject. He watched as I dipped my fingers into the oil and spread them over the scars on his abdomen, then I stood up to reach the one on his chin next. He grinned, poking his tongue out and trying to lick the side of my finger as I gently massaged the oil into his skin, making me laugh. I turned him a little so I could reach the one on his back next, then later resumed my seat and took his hand in mine, palm up so I could rub the oil in to the long lines on his forearm. He went quiet and still as I did this, as he always did, and I could feel the guilt and shame roiling off him in waves at what he had done to himself. I wish I knew what to say to help ease his discomfort, but I was at a loss, so I just pressed a gentle kiss to the palm of his hand.

Now this was the point where I usually stopped, but tonight, feeling bold after what had happened in the shower, I really wanted to keep going. There were four scars on Blaine's body that I had, up until now, neglected out of embarrassment. I looped my finger in the waistband of his boxer-briefs at his hip, tugging it down just a fraction as I looked up at him.

"Shall I keep going?" I gestured to the capsule that I held carefully between the fingers of my other hand.

He hesitated, holding my gaze, his hazel eyes intense.

"Only if you're sure you want to. You don't have to, Kurt."

I just nodded. He sucked in a breath, his gaze never leaving my face as he pulled down his underwear, leaving them to rest at about mid-thigh. My eyes fell straight to his cock, and I could feel the butterflies crawling in my belly at the sight of it.

It took all of my focus to pull my attention back to the Vitamin E oil capsule in my hand, and I quickly dipped two of my fingers in to the oil, then raised them to Blaine's skin. I could see the scars now. One was right in the crease of where his leg joined his body, and I had an instant flashback to when we had studied anatomy in science class; it was amazing that the blade had missed his femoral artery. The second and third were a little higher up and quite close together, but the fourth one was the one that really made me cringe. It was half hidden by his pubic hair, less than an inch away from his penis. I touched the oil to the first one, rubbing small circles in to the skin. I could feel Blaine watching me the whole time.

My breath was coming in short, nervous pants as I moved on to the two scars that were close together, but it had nothing to do with the scars. Blaine was getting hard, and I was waging an internal battle over whether or not it would be inappropriate for me to drop the pretence and just wrap my hand around him. I glanced up at his face, he was still watching me, his eyes hooded and his lips parted. He smirked down at me.

I dipped my fingers into the oil again and rubbed them gently over the fourth scar, deliberately letting my hand rest against his penis. He stuttered out a moan that sounded like my name and I gave up the fight, wrapping my oily hand around his length. He staggered back half a step, catching himself on the edge of the desk for support. I squeezed the remaining oil out of the capsule into my palm, using it as lubricant. From the look on Blaine's face, he didn't seem to mind that at all.

I stroked him slowly, squeezing firmly when I neared the head, but after a few minutes he stopped me. His eyes were lust-blown and his face flushed as he tugged my hand, pulling me to my feet, then caught the hem of my shirt and lifted it over my head.

"I don't want to do this here; let's go to bed."

His hands ran smoothly over my body and his lips caught mine, frantic and hungry, as he walked us over to the bed. My inhibitions had melted away and I quickly tugged off my pyjama pants before we fell together on to the sheets. Blaine was underneath me, his legs parted, and my body nestled perfectly in with the curve of his, my hips rubbing his bare thighs. He moaned as I lowered my body against his, chest to chest, and it was only too easy from there to line up my cock with his own and thrust against him, the oil only heightening our pleasure. Blaine held me tight, his thrusts matching my own while our mouths battled for dominance. His legs came up to wrap around my hips, linking at the ankles behind my back, pushing us tighter and closer together, and he lost it, his head falling back onto the pillow as he came. Just the sight of his face in that moment was enough to make me follow just a few seconds after him.

I let my body relax against his, sliding down a little til my head was resting on his chest. I felt like my bones had melted. We just lay there together for a long time, naked and entwined, as we both recovered. I was blissfully exhausted, and could only manage to stroke a finger back and forth across Blaine's collarbone, or press a couple of soft kisses to his chest next to where my head was lying. I could feel his fingers stroking the back of my neck.

Eventually Blaine rolled us both over a little, depositing me on my back on the bed gently but then lingering to kiss me deeply, before he slid out of the bed and padded, gloriously naked, into the bathroom to get a washcloth to clean us both off. I just lay there smiling up at him as he wiped me down, then waited impatiently for him to slip back in beside me. Holding tightly to his warm body and feeling his breath against my shoulder, I quickly drifted off to sleep.

-.-.-.-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who happened to read this on ffnet, you will notice that this chapter is shorter now than it was the first time around... that is because I think the scene that I cut works much better as the start of chapter 19. Sorry for my indecision, I'm terrible at trying to make up my mind about how I want things. Trust me, it's better this way... and I like that this chapter ends with the boys in bed together... 
> 
> Chapter 19 will be up in approx 1 week. 
> 
> Please review. :)


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